Harry Potter and the Daedric Artefact
by cosmic-cube-keeper
Summary: COMPLETE! A strange artefact helps Harry escape from Azkaban prison. Revenge, love, vindication, and chaos result, not necessarily in that order. Bashing, dark!Harry. Harry Quits! x-over with the movie 'Sunshine'. Brief mention of the Elder Scrolls universe.
1. A Way Out

_SUMMARY: "COMPLETE! A Daedric artefact helps Harry escape from Azkaban prison. Revenge, love, vindication, and chaos result, not necessarily in that order. Bashing, dark!Harry. x-over with 'Sunshine (2007)' and TES5: Skyrim"_

_DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable characters, places, or devices are copyright to their respective creators. I'm just playing in their sandbox.  
_

_CONTENT WARNING (The only place I will post this, so do pay attention): This story will likely contain violence, coarse language, character death, and mature subject matter. There will be major spoilers from most of the Harry Potter books, the movie "Sunshine" (2007), and minor spoilers from The Elder Scrolls universe. Unsure of either of these? Google is your friend. And, if you don't like spoilers, you probably should not continue reading. This story is not for Dumbledore fans, or Ginny fans. You have been warned._

_Posted March 26, 2012._

_Edited April 19, 2012, reason: Updated opening to include Harry's notice in the Daily Prophet.  
Edited July 26, 2012, reason: changed introduction.  
_

* * *

**1. A WAY OUT**

* * *

_January 19, 2001_

The storm came as a whisper, really. The occasional person would let out an indignant shriek or shout, as they opened up that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet, the major Wizarding newspaper in Britain. Curiosity ensured the news spread, and long before the Ministry itself was open for the day's business, a throng of people had gathered at its doors. No, it had been some time since the average citizens living in the magical community had been stirred up in this manner. The source of the anger and panic?

That morning's Daily Prophet carried a single large moving picture of their saviour, the Boy-who-lived, looking grave and frigid. Sure, the public had seen enough pictures of Harry Potter, but this one—it was different. The headline above it spoke volumes: 'HARRY POTTER: I QUIT' Most didn't make it to the meat of the article, simply going into panic at those few words on the front page. In the article itself, Harry certainly had loads to say about the state of things, and his place in the war—or in this case, the lack thereof.

_Dear readers,_

_I resign. I withdraw. I'm cashing in my chips and cutting my losses. Two days ago, I sent an owl to Lord Voldemort, saying exactly that. And now I tell you the same. I hope you're all happy, because quite honestly, I won't raise a finger against him._

_In my short life, I believe I have experienced far more than an old man might ever encounter through his entire life. I have faced down death at least six times, and count myself very lucky to still be among the living. Most of those incidents directly involved Lord Voldemort and his followers. I believe I could have defeated him. However, as I have already said in the opening, I will not. I have made the decision that this is not my fight._

_Now, you might all be wondering, why did I come to such a decision? Voldemort did murder my parents, after all, did he not? I agree, yes, he did kill my parents. However, they were soldiers. They were fighting in a war, knowing the ultimate cost. I know they wait for me when I at last meet my fate, such as we all do. I also know that, no matter what sort of decision I make, they will be proud of me, and will not fault me._

_I still have not answered your question, though. The honest answer? Rather than support me, help me out, train me, and provide me with the tools that would help me achieve what my so-called destiny had planned for me, you instead called me a liar, an attention seeker, a head case, and ultimately, a murderer. You wanted a Savior and a martyr, not a leader. Now, you have none of those._

_My advice to all of you. Voldemort is YOUR problem. He is the embodiment of your old prejudices and laws, all of which need to die a painful, horrible death. Things must change before things will ever get better. Change is a terrifying thing, but it is the only constant. Wizarding Britain, however, has resisted that constant, and now stagnates. Do you wish for your culture, your society to die out? That is what is coming, should you allow things to remain as they are._

_Want things to change? Then stand up for yourselves. Each of you are armed with a deadly weapon. Stand up to tyranny, stand up to those who resist the change, bring Britain back out of the dark ages. Tell Voldemort and his Death Eaters he can't get away with doing the things they do. Tell the antiquated Wizengamot you want to see real change. This is _your_ responsibility. Not mine._

_I close with this simple thought. "You're either part of the solution, or you're part of the problem." Good luck, Britain. You're gonna need it._

_Harry Potter_

* * *

_July 3, 1995_

_Wizengamot Chambers, Ministry of Magic_

"Very well," Fudge leered from his lectern overseeing the chamber, "Having been found guilty of the charges of using an unforgivable, and the murder of Mr. Dennis Creevey, Mr. Potter, I sentence you to Azkaban prison, for the remainder of your natural life. Aurors. Take him away." The slamming of the gavel on the lectern came as a gunshot, as Aurors moved to take him away. His futile resistance was met with several strong stunning spells, and he was carried out of the chamber in the bliss of darkness.

_June 18, 2000_

_Azkaban Prison_

Four years. It had been four years, if Harry's barely sane mind remembered correctly. Four years since everything had gone to hell in a hand-basket. At a time when he believed nothing could get any worse, they had, in the most spectacular way.

Perhaps it had been because of his grief over the loss of Sirius, that he was trapped as he was. Grief-stricken, he'd not even put up a fight, as he was hauled away by the Aurors. He certainly remembered the trial which followed, but not the trip to the Wizarding prison. They'd had to stun him after the verdict was handed out, along with the punishment: the rest of his natural life in Azkaban.

Now, his home consisted of a six-by-eight cell, along with the Dementors which visited him all hours of the day, forcing him to remember his worst nightmares. He'd stopped screaming only weeks after his incarceration began, and now barely moved.

An individual can do some truly amazing things during dark times, for it is said, desperate times call for desperate measures. It was over those first few weeks at the tender mercies of the Dementors, that he was able to somewhat retreat into the depths of his mind. There, he was protected from the brunt of the attacks, and it was there he was able to retain his sanity for this long. Sure, he certainly still felt the Dementors when they were around, but nothing like at the beginning. It was in this state, therefore, he bide his time, knowing all too well, the old fool would eventually come for him. After all, it was up to HIM and him alone, to deal with the Dark Lord.

Harry let out a hollow laugh. What fools they all were! Days after the revelation of the prophecy, they haul him off to Azkaban, charged and convicted of the murder of Dennis Creevey. Exactly what cheap Muggle drugs were they all smoking, anyway?

He was able to escape the Dementors, that had become old hat rather quickly. Escaping the visions from Voldemort, and the horrible nightmares that came with it, on the other hand... that was absolutely impossible. Every night, he was treated to a front row seat, forced to watch the work of a madman. If it was any consolation, he had learned who was truly responsible for Dennis' death: a polyjuiced Belletrix Lestrange. Of course it made sense in the end. The pair had gotten rather close during the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Who's to say she didn't recover one of his hairs?

The more frightening part of the equation, however, was the fact yet another Death Eater had been allowed into the school. The barmy old headmaster had obviously not learned anything from the last time such a thing had happened—Professor Snape excluded.

His list of allies at this point had shrunken dramatically. Many witnesses had been called during his trial, including everyone in his year. Neville had been charged with contempt, for refusing to make any comments on the stand. Given his family's position and standing, the charges were rather quickly withdrawn. Ron, meanwhile, had been rather frank. So had Hermione, for that matter. It was a betrayal of the worst sort.

Luna had been questioned as well, but she had simply prattled on about her invisible creatures and other outlandish things. The Wizengamot had declared her testimony null and void immediately after, and Harry had to smile to himself, if only briefly. He knew Luna's behaviour was an act, and that was all. There was a brilliantly intelligent mind in there. It was just hidden by a thick wall of her own making.

Ginny had been questioned, and like her brother, she also had lots to say about Harry. And to think, before everything went pear-shaped, he was starting to fancy the youngest Weasley. If Harry ever left Azkaban, he would have more than a few choice words to say to her. None of them would come in the shape of forgiveness. That went for the lot of them. Unless there were extenuating circumstances, such as the Imperius curse or something. Then, and only then, might he remotely consider forgiving them.

Naturally, Professor McGonagall was also a staunch supporter, and although she testified, she refused to believe he was capable of such a heinous act. Like the others who supported him, her testimony was declared null and void.

Professor Snape actually surprised him. The man had certainly had more than a few scathing comments as far as Harry was concerned, however, when bluntly asked whether Harry were capable of the crime he was charged with, Snape surprisingly answered in the negative. The professor gained a new level of respect from the condemned, but it was for nought. There were only a few others who had similar comments, and with the character testimony, the Wizengamot easily won a conviction.

There were a number of visitors over the years. Dumbledore made weekly visits, although Harry did not know why. Perhaps it was to reflect on how badly things had gone. Or maybe it was just to see if his little weapon was still of use. One of Harry's biggest wishes, was to somehow dose the barmy headmaster with Veritaserum, and see what sort of secrets he would spill while under its influence. Harry was very much aware of where he stood with the old man at this point: a weapon to be brought out, used, then shoved back in his cubby hole after he was finished. This realization came to him about a year after he began his sentence, and it in some ways still stung. He'd seen the man as a grandfather in many ways. Now that image lay shattered in a million pieces, and in its place, an individual he despised almost as much as Voldemort.

Fred and George visited about once a month. Both had been questioned by the Wizengamot, and both were adamant of Harry's innocence. Naturally, their testimony had also been declared null and void, citing bias. During their visits, the pair would try and cheer Harry up, get him to respond in some way. Harry hated putting on an act, but he had to remain consistent—and if he ever got away from the hell-hole Azkaban was, he would most certainly reward them well. No, not all the Weasleys had let him down.

Other characters had visited him as well, including several from Voldemort's camp. They offered him a way out, should he 'come over to the winning side'. 'If that was ever gonna happen,' Harry snorted in his head, 'What, me join the monster who killed my parents? That would sully their memory for starters!' He gave them no answer, only a blank stare. It was that behaviour which everyone saw. By the end of the first month, it was all but confirmed the boy-who-lived had lost his mind.

That brings us forward to this particular late spring day in June, just after sunrise. The boy in question, now very much a man, was startled to find a few items sitting on the floor of his cell, along with a folded parchment on top of it. He blinked a second, spotting a curved wand among them. He snatched it up at once, and gave it a wave. He was pleased as a few red sparks shot out of the end of it. It would work for him, although not well, and any wand was better than no wand at all. He shoved it in the pocket of his tattered robes, and opened the parchment.

_You seem to have been put into a rather difficult situation, young mage. Such a shame, your talents are locked up to rot, when they can be of much better use... elsewhere._

_All of you mortals know me, all of you have a piece of me inside of you, and perhaps, one day, you and I will meet face to face. For now, have at my hourglass, it will free you from your bounds. Along with it, find several rather useful tomes. Each contains a spell used by the mortals of Mundus(1), but you should be more than adept at their use. Simply read it to absorb the contained spell._

_Oh, and before I forget. To activate the hourglass, simply twist the little knob on the end a quarter turn, yes, that should do. Just a quarter turn, mind you, don't want to send you too far off into the void—just pulling your leg, forgive me! But just a quarter turn... Or I will visit you and eat your eyes..._

WHAT? What bloody nonsense is that? Harry practically shouted in his head. He actually re-read the parchment several times just to make sure he understood exactly what he was reading. The bottom line: whoever wrote this was gone 'round the twist.

He shoved the parchment in his pocket, and picked up the hourglass. It was a rather ornate object, likely rather expensive. It could fit in quite nicely with all the other trinkets Dumbledore lined his office with. And, sure enough, the object had a single knob on the top of it. He hesitated in touching it, however. Really. The individual who wrote the letter was barking mad. He might end up exchanging one hell for another. Did he really want that?

A horrible shriek not far down the hall made up his mind for him. Another poor soul had just been brought in, by the sounds of it. He could hear the Auror guards laughing, as the door swung shut with a finite slam. Most of them only last a few weeks, he surmised.

Collecting the books, he put the hourglass between his legs, and turned the knob a quarter-turn. He vanished with a cloud of black smoke.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: Everyone has to do one, right? Harry in Azkaban? This is my spin. I know, it's been done a gazillion times, but at this point, I think just about anything you can imagine has already been done in the Harry Potter universe._

_Still, I think there are things I can do with it, so I give it a crack._

_To those who have read my other stories, this one may have a familiar feel to it... I have to admit, the concept is similar. The difference this time around, I'm only dealing with three worlds (at least in this particular story): Harry's, "Sunshine", and the Elder Scrolls universe, specifically the "Skyrim" time line. Harry won't be repeating himself a dozen or so times. I think it dawned on me about half way through as I was writing Temporal Boundary Invasions, that was the case. There was a lot of issues with that story, as a number of reviewers pointed out, mostly rather kindly, some not so. Should I decide Harry and his friends should visit other worlds/dimensions/universes, I will do that in separate stories._

_(1)Mundus – another name for Nirn, the planet on which the Elder Scrolls takes place. Cookies to anyone who might guess who the parchment and the items are from. I will say this, Harry has him pegged quite nicely._


	2. Someone to Save

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted March 30, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 2-**

**SOMEONE TO SAVE**

* * *

Given Harry had already been sitting on the floor of the cell, he was still sitting when the black smoke cleared. The confines of the cell were gone, replaced with what looked like a long tunnel, with room for maybe three abreast to pass at best. The sides had some sort of shiny material on them, and in several places, bundles of wires and piping. It was almost dark, with only a few lights illuminating the rather dark conduit. Worse, the air was incredibly thin. Harry drew the wand he'd been given with the package, and quickly cast a bubble-face charm—he was already starting to feel a little light-headed.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a loud CLUNK sound, and almost immediately, the air started swirling around him, getting stronger by the second. Instinct told him whatever was happening likely wouldn't do anything good for his health. A strong barrier charm was snapped into place across one of the dividing partitions, stopping the flow of air.

"Bloody hell," He muttered to himself, as the lights seemed to dim again, darkening the place even more than it already was. "_Lumos_," he commanded, and a strong light lit from the end of his wand. "Right. Not healthy." Holding his wand with his teeth, he pulled out the hourglass device. Wherever he'd landed, it wasn't safe. Not by a long shot. He attempted to twist the knob again, but found it locked in place. Instead, the device had turned a green shade, with the sand flowing steadily from the top into the bottom. 'It's timing something. What? How long?'

'4:06' appeared above the hourglass. So, something was going to happen in four minutes' time.

Harry stood up, allowing his body to adjust to being vertical again. He tended not to stand very much, there was no need, really. At least not that often. Now, it was necessary, if he wanted to figure out where he was. His mind was still hazy, much like his eyes, but he felt for his glasses—there they were. It was surprising the guards allowed him to keep them, and now that was a good thing. He slipped them on, and the world came back into focus. Next question. Was anyone around? He cancelled the light spell, then intoned, "_Homenum revelio_."

The spell revealed a single shade a distance down the corridor, the direction opposite where he'd had to throw up a hasty shield to keep from losing the faint atmosphere they had. Perhaps... no, it can't be. The only way to be sure, then, he realized. He set off to find the lone individual marked by the spell, the shade going dimmer the closer he got.

A hatch off the corridor led to a small room, with a large pool of some sort in the middle of it. Harry visually shivered, feeling the temperature drop to near-freezing. It actually reminded him of the approach of a Dementor, and he caught himself about to do a mad turn to make sure that wasn't the case.

Harry's heart sank, as he spotted the target of his spell from less than a minute earlier, illuminated faintly by what little light still remained. He was half-submerged in the pool, not moving, a tool gripped in his right hand. The water was actually forming into ice in some places, and Harry again shivered at the thought. It looked like the man had frozen to death, likely trying to fix whatever was in the pool. "_Homenum revelio_," Harry intoned, just to make sure.

Luck was with him, as the guy gave off a very faint purple shade. He was still alive, if only barely. A swish and a flick. "_Wingardium leviosa_." The injured man was lifted out of the tank, sloshing icy water in all directions. Holding the spell, he guided the injured man out of the room, and out into the slightly better-lit tunnel, and pulled the hatchway door closed.

"Merlin's pants," Harry swore, as he at last cancelled the charm. He just barely caught the guy's head before he hit the floor, and he was forced to his knees, feeling a strong bout of vertigo. Casting that charm had taken a lot out of him, and added even more evidence to his suspicions as to where he was.

Turning his attention back to the unconscious man, it was then he noticed the splotch of blood on his right pant leg. The guy also felt like a block of ice. What had nearly killed him, had in a way given him a chance. The guy was actually quite good looking, now that Harry got a good look at him. He had short-cropped hair, and sideburns which ran down to the bottom of his ears. He had a days' growth on his face. He was muscular, the soaked clothes barely containing his frame. Harry mentally shivered at the wild thoughts which raced through his mind, and quickly quelled them. After all, there were more pressing issues at the moment.

Another gesture of Harry's wand, and a gentle warming charm was cast. He was again alarmed to feel the magic being tapped from him. His core was incredibly weak from his incarceration, that much was clear. Still, there was no choice. He would likely pass out, but Harry needed answers, and that wouldn't come with the guy dead. He turned his attention to the injured leg, seeing the guy was breathing on his own, if a little shallow.

That would have to do. The bones had been reset the best he could, but the injury still looked angry and swollen. There wasn't a lot he could do at this point—after all, he did only have a fifth year education, magic-wise. He was not a healer, and so would need to seek out someone who was... sooner rather than later.

That raised the next question. Where did he go from there? Back to England? Yeah, right. They'd lock him right back up in Azkaban, and he'd be no further ahead than he'd been only a few minutes ago. At least here and now, he could at least plan out his next course of action.

He looked back down at the injured man. His breathing was becoming much more steady. The warming charm was helping out, exactly as it should, and so he leaned over and cast another. His world went dark, and he slumped across the chest of the stranger. At exactly that moment, the hourglass-like device in Harry's tattered robes vibrated once. If either of them had been conscious, they would have been bathed in a terrific bright blue light, as the device acted like a port key, carrying two men, and one crippled spacecraft across the expanse of space.

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

The last things James Mace(1) remembered clearly, was the pain of his leg getting caught between the mainframe rack and the framework in the cooling tank, and shouting for Capa to 'finish it.' His fading consciousness barely registered Capa going past, hopefully toward the payload. It was all up to Capa now, the passenger on the mission, but the most critical human part. Without him, there was no bomb. As much as he'd goaded the younger man, harassed him, sometimes fought with him, there was the underlying respect of his part of the mission—and perhaps a little more. They all had their parts to play. Mace had played his, now resigned to his fate, feeling the life being sapped out of him by the beyond-frigid water required for Icarus to function. With only half the racks in the tank, only a few things were working—at least that included some of the lights.

Sometime later, he began to regain consciousness, and with that, came the throbbing pain around his right leg. He shivered involuntarily, as another issue reared its ugly head. It was then he realized he wasn't alone. Someone was draped across him, seemingly also unconscious. Mace dared lift his head, and was somewhere between startled and confused at the individual who had him pinned at this point.

The man was dirty, as if he'd not had a shower in months. Long, stringy, dark hair was matted around his head, and his clothes were a tattered mess. He reeked of –no, he smelled of death. That was the best description. He'd seen homeless folk in better shape! The important question: how'd he get here? Had he pulled him out of the coolant tank? If so... whoever this person was, Mace owed him big time.

He used his elbows to push himself up into a sitting position, letting the individual slide down a bit, and he let out another involuntary shiver. He was still freezing from trying to fix the mainframe. A long, hot shower would do wonders about now, but his throbbing right leg told him all he needed to know. He wouldn't be going anywhere without help.

His mind drifted back to the mission. Had Capa managed to trigger the stellar bomb? He mentally cursed himself. No, unlikely. Had he been able to do so, the Icarus II would have been incinerated. With no computer to correct its orbit, the ship would have been exposed to the deadly heat of the sun within minutes. They still might be, come to think of it. He cursed again in his head. Their mission had failed, and whoever this was out cold across his lap had only delayed the inevitable. Saved from freezing, only to be roasted alive. Now _that's_ a bad day, he snorted in his head.

Mace dared reach down and jostle the stranger on the shoulder. The man let out a moan, turned his head, and opened his eyes—a startling emerald green shade, which seemed to pierce right through him from behind a pair of old, round-rimmed glasses. It was unsettling considering the appearance of the individual they belonged to.

"You... okay?"

"Y-yeah," the stranger spoke, pushing himself up to a kneeling position. He slipped a short stick into the pockets of his tattered clothes—they appeared to be a dress of some sort. No, that can't be right.

"You... you pulled me out of the coolant tank."

"Yes." A fleeting smile crossed the man's face, but it was gone quick as it had appeared. "I found you... well... shortly after I got here. Where is 'here' anyway?"

"The Icarus II. How did you get here? Not that it really matters. We're probably gonna be incinerated by the sun any second now."

"Sorry?"

"It's why we're here." Mace let out another involuntary shiver, still feeling the effects of hypothermia. The stranger noticed this, and produced the stick again.

"This should help... hopefully I won't pass out again, but..." He gestured at Mace, whispering something under his breath. Mace felt the effect at once, as if he'd been given a hot bath. "And..." another gesture from the stick, and he was completely dry.

"What... what are you?"

"A human being, although I sure as hell don't feel like one just now. God, I must look of fright. But I'm Harry."

"Mace." The pair shook hands, and Harry gestured at himself once. The dirt seemed to vanish. Harry gave a momentary grin, but said, "Can't do anything about the robes. They need to be burned at the earliest opportunity. Azkaban does that to someone."

"Azkaban? Where's that?"

"A place you wouldn't want to experience. How... how do you feel now?"

"Better, but my leg's pretty fucked up still."

"I'm sorry. I did the best I could, it was much worse when I found you."

"Thanks… feels more like it's been sprained than busted… better one than the other. What's that on your face?"

"Right. Here." Harry gestured again with his wand, and a small bubble covered Mace's nose and mouth. "Right useful. A… a friend taught me how to cast it a few years ago." Mace saw Harry's features darken a moment.

"Can you get up?"

"I think so. Being… not on Earth, makes casting magic difficult. It's why I blacked out. But…" Harry lifted himself to his feet, then helped Mace off the floor. It was an awkward process which provided more than a fair dose of pain for the man.

"Best thing now, help me back to my sleeping compartment."

"Where to then?"

"This way." The pair turned around, and started off. "What's that?" Mace pointed to the shimmering barrier a ways ahead of them.

"When I landed here, or just after… it was like the air was being sucked out of here. I put up a shield to stop it."

"Fuck… life saver, again. Capa must've gotten into the payload then. But…" Mace had to think a moment. Why would he have… unless… unless the payload had already detached from the Icarus II. It would've meant a 'Hail Mary' jump across the gap, and naturally, the decompression of the entire ship. His new friend had saved his life twice. Unfortunately, the magical shield, or whatever Harry had constructed, now blocked the way to the common area. Then again, with little electricity, none of the ovens nor the stove would work. And fixing the mainframe? Out of the question. He'd caught a glimpse of the two racks still half-raised out of the tank, and both were about as fucked as the ones on the Icarus I were. Icarus had been silenced for good.

"In here," said Mace, guiding Harry through a side hatchway. The short corridor led them into what resembled a pod, with four frosted windows opposing one another. They crossed the floor, and Mace touched one of the windows with a free hand. It instantly un-frosted, and Harry had to smirk. "Just like magic," He grinned. Mace only shook his head, and they stepped into the small compartment.

There was a bed built into the back wall, with plenty of drawers and cupboards covering the spaces around.

"Not enough room to swing a kneazle," said Harry, as he helped Mace sit on his bed.

"Not enough room to swing a cat, you mean. And no, not much room. Just chuck that stuff on the floor." Mace pointed to the pile of papers on the small stool. "Wait. Toss me that jacket."

Harry did as asked. "You're still cold."

"Whatever you did to me sure as hell helped, but yeah." He slipped the jacket on—Harry noticed it matched his pants, likely a uniform, then. "Capa's stuff will probably fit you. His compartment's across from mine."

Harry looked down at himself, and gave a stiff nod. As much as it didn't feel right, taking the clothes of a dead man, it would be better than running about in robes that were ruined. A nice hot shower would do about then as well, but at this point, he might be pushing things. He crossed the pod, and opened up the opposite compartment.

It took him several minutes before he located the guy's clothes, neatly folded in a drawer built in under the bed. Of course, that would make perfect sense, he realized, as he pulled the door closed. The glass instantly frosted over, giving him the privacy he needed. He quickly changed, and pocketed all the items out of his ruined robes. He left them on the floor, and exited the compartment.

"Now that I feel somewhat human again. This is so messed up," said Harry, taking a seat on the small stool. Mace had stretched out on his bed, stuffed one of the pillows under his still-injured leg, and folded his hands across his stomach. Harry frowned at this, knowing he was unable to further help his new friend. That sort of injury was beyond what he knew.

"How long does this... um... bubble last?"

"Until it's dispelled."

"Good. One problem dealt with. Bigger issue, we need to get into storage and bring out some MREs. You can... heat stuff up, right?"

"Yeah, of course. What's an MRE?"

"Meals, ready to eat. It's a military field ration. Used when there's nothing close by. The shit's not bad, but it's not great either. But it's better than nothing at all."

"And water?"

"With just us, a few months. After that... I hope you can do a lot more shit with that stick of yours, 'cause really, we're fucked. That's if the cold doesn't get us first."

"Why?"

"The computer controlled the heat. Fuck, it's already cooled off a bit, that's just in the few hours since... since you got here."

"Well, I can cast warming charms."

"Against the minus two-hundred and seventy-five Celsius temperature outside?"

"A heating charm might help, but the bigger issue is my magical reserves. You have any chocolate on board?"

"Gone a long time ago."

"Shit. What about cocoa?"

"Maybe. Why chocolate?"

"It helps boost a witch or wizard's magical reserves. No one ever told me why, but that's how it works," answered Harry, with a shrug.

"How did you get here anyway?"

"This thing." Harry pulled the hourglass out of his pocket. It looked rather ordinary at that point.

"You're fucking with me."

"I swear it. It's some sort of magical artifact that... it seems to have exchanged one prison for another. Although." Harry got up and sat on the bed. "Put a hand on mine... great. Gonna give this another go." Harry used his free hand to try and twist the knob on the top. He was disappointed when it wouldn't move. "Fuck."

Mace put his hand back across his stomach. "So it just... teleports you places?"

"I think so. I know... you probably think I'm off my nut, just... trusting something. But anywhere was better than where I was. Fucking Wizengamot... learned nothing from the last time they sent an innocent man to Azkaban," Harry muttered, "'course, they actually held a trial this time around... dragged all my so-called friends in to testify and demonstrate how evil and wicked I am... FOOLS, the lot of them!"

"What... what did..."

"What did they convict me of? Murdering a classmate. But see, rather than actually ask my side of the story, they put their blinders on, see what they want to see. 'course, I know who really killed the kid... she'll answer for it eventually. Says I can't cast unforgivables... wait and see, Belletrix, my dear." Mace involuntarily shivered, and it was nothing to do with him suffering the after-effects of hypothermia. The guy sitting on the edge of his bed had been wronged in no small way, and it was clear he had many axes to grind. He dared reach up, and put a hand on the smaller guy's shoulder in an offer of support. He was rewarded with a brief smile, although his eyes were watery with un-shed tears.

Harry removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of the borrowed jacket. "F-f-four years. They had me locked up for four years. Until... until this morning, when this thing showed up." He gestured to the hourglass. "It was an opportunity and I took it... even if it means I die here. At least I die with a friend at my side, instead of being surrounded by monsters."

Sometime later, both of them realized food would have to be gotten out of the storage at the other end of the ship. It was certainly still within the atmosphere of the ship, but the distance they had to travel made it exhausting, and painful. Harry knew he'd not completely healed the fracture, and even the casting of additional healing charms had not had much of an effect. Therefore, every step was excruciatingly painful for Mace, and outright awkward for Harry, given he was easily a head shorter. Both were near collapse from exhaustion, by the time they reached the correct module.

The particular module they were in featured a large number of containers, each exactly the same size. All were labelled with a basic description of their contents.

"Here. This one," said Mace, wearily. Harry drew his wand, and levitated the container off the stack. The label simply read, "Emg. Rations, MRE"

"We'll take the whole container, save us from coming back here any time soon. Anything else we could use?"

"How?"

"Like this." Harry made a gesture with his wand, muttering two words which Mace could not make out. The container instantly compressed in size, to that of a pack of playing cards.

"Jesus Christ."

"Now. Anything else, before we have to make the dreaded trip back to your compartment?"

"That box... you wanted cocoa, right?"

"Yeah..." Harry summoned the box, and Mace helped him with the lid.

"Great, we're in business," said Harry, quickly spotting the labelled container inside. "Oh... what do we have here?" A large box of tea and another with instant coffee.

"Long as you don't mind doing laps on the ceiling of the compartment," said Mace, with a smirk. That earned him a smirk right back.

"Seriously, though. It'll help keep up my magical reserves," and then mostly to himself, "_and keep me awake so I don't face Cedric... or Sirius... or deal with Voldemort..._"

They ended up making a small detour on the way back to the sleeping compartment, so Mace could show Harry where the washroom and the shower was. Naturally, both took the opportunity to deal with some business before they pressed on.

The amount of effort it took to get to the storage module and back proved to be too much, and both succumbed to the darkness, crashed out on Mace's bed, rather awkwardly.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: (1) I think this is correct, from the screen grabs I took (I have the blu-ray). Sunshine fans out there: you know his real name, give me a shout so I can fix this._


	3. Desperate Measures

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted April 5, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 3-**

**DESPERATE MEASURES**

* * *

_"…I'b sorry!" cried Neville, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder. "I'b so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do-"_

_"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted, "Just try and stand, let's get out of-"_

_"Dubbledore!" said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry's shoulder._

_"What?"_

_"DUBBLEDORE!" Harry turned to look where Neville was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body-they were saved._

_Dumbledore sped down the steps past Neville and Harry, who had no more thoughts of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realized he was there and yelled to the others. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line-_

_Only one pair was still battling, unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Belletrix's jet of red light: he was laughing at her._

_"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore, too, turned towards the dias._

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place. Harry heard Belletrix's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing-Sirius had only just fallen through the archway. He would reappear._

_But Sirius did not reappear._

_"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled…(1)_

"SIRIUS!" Harry's eyes flew open, and he actually fell off the bed onto the floor with the mental shock. Of course he'd seen it all by this point, what with several months exposed to the effects of the Dementors. Still, having retreated to the depths of his mind, he had been able to shield himself from the brunt of those terrible memories.

Now, away from Azkaban, and back in the real world, he was once again subjected to the terrible nightmares originally fuelled by the Dementors. The combination worked in reducing him to a sobbing, shaking mess on the floor of Mace's compartment.

Harry's panicked scream woke the older man up, and he was at a loss as to what to do. The young wizard who had saved his life only hours earlier, now looked like he was in need of saving instead. But from what? Knowing it would hurt, Mace got down on the floor. His friend needed comfort, his injured leg be damned. Hissing from the terrible pain, he pulled Harry into a hug. "I've got you," he whispered softly.

Harry momentarily went rigid, as if shocked at the unexpected contact, but gradually relaxed, as he readily accepted the strong showing of moral support and comfort. He reached up a hand, and grasped one of the muscular forearms clutching him tightly. To Mace, it was as if the young wizard were making sure it was real.

"Right here, Harry. Just... just rest, okay?"

"Right here," Harry repeated, in a detached voice.

"C'mon. Let's at least get off the floor."

"N-no... please... don't leave me." The plea was not from the man he'd met only hours ago, but from a small boy. Someone who had been deserted far too many times in his young life.

"I promise. But we gotta get up. Floor's freezing."

It was at this point that Harry realized what Mace said was true. The temperature had fallen another degree or so, and the deadly cold from the vacuum of space was slowly seeping into the Icarus II. The floor was no place to be under any circumstance. They separated, and Harry slowly climbed to his feet. He then helped Mace to his feet, and they sat back down on the small bed.

"You all right?"

"Better," Harry answered, although he was still trembling slightly. "Terrible memory. S-sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about it. Fuck, though... wish Searle was here. He was better at this shit than I am—though at times I doubted his sanity... but... if you wanna talk about it—"

"Honestly, not really. Just, thanks... but... I already revisited it once, and I'll revisit it again... something I can count on. It's why I don't look forward to sleep."

"That's pretty fucked up."

"So goes my life," Harry snorted, pushing himself up so he was then resting against the wall on the opposite side of the bed. Mace followed suit, making a sour face at the stabbing pain which flared through his injured leg. Harry made an equally sour face, as his failure once again reared its ugly head, but he forced his face to relax, and a smile took over. Without a doubt, he had the guy's absolute loyalty at this point.

"What?"

"Just thinking. The last person I felt this way around..." Harry was forced to take a deep breath to settle his nerve, before continuing, "...my godfather excluded... his name was Cedric. He was three years older than I was, not even in the same house—err... I mean, the same dormitory. But Merlin... it didn't matter. Not even my closest friends could make me feel... like this."

"Like how?"

"Safe." Harry reached back a hand and scratched the base of his neck, then fixed the collar of his borrowed jacket. "I dunno why... but it just is. Funny, I know. We've only known each other a matter of hours, but it feels... like I've known you for years. It's like I've been reunited with an old friend, but... but more." Mace could feel his face getting rather warm in spite of the chilly room temperature. He ran a hand through his hair, and asked, "Cedric was more than a friend?"

"Yeah. _Much_ more than friends. I still don't know how the Daily Prophet didn't pick up on it. It would have been a three-ring-circus, that much I'm sure—you don't care?"

"Why would I? Being gay is a genetic thing," said Mace, with a shrug, "No different than blue eyes or red hair."

"Didn't know that... but... there were more than a few people who... definitely didn't approve. Now that I think of it, Dumbledore was one of them." Harry frowned and his features darkened. "_So. How much of that tournament was truly orchestrated by Crouch, then?_" That was said mostly to himself.

Harry continued to mutter to himself, but at this point, Mace wasn't really hearing it. A simple statement was overriding everything else: _Much_ more than friends. With another wizard. Another man—or likely another boy, as Harry was suggesting. What had happened? Equally, what did he want now? Surely... 'Better question,' Mace thought to himself, 'What do I want?' It would be too easy for him to seduce the young wizard, and more than likely succeed. The guy was in a fragile state—no shit, considering where he'd arrived from!

Mace had certainly been on both sides of the fence when it came to relationships. Each brought its own complications. It had been agreed amongst all eight crew members before they boarded Icarus II, no relationships were allowed, so as to prevent complications which could spring up from such a thing.

That certainly led to underlying tension amongst them all. It was doubly difficult, given Mace's relationship with Cassie not long before the mission. Reflecting back on the past few months, he realized something else: the tension between him and Capa had most definitely not been borne of hate or jealousy. No, it was attraction and love. Mutual attraction they could not act on. The question regarding Harry, then: what should he do?

"Mace?"

"Huh—what?"

"I said I need to get up a minute. Your leg's still bothering you?"

"A little." Harry drew his wand again and cast yet another healing charm at the injury. The throbbing lessened yet again.

"Once we get back where I belong, there'll be a few people that can set it good as new." Harry slowly stood up. "Need to visit the bathroom."

Mace watched him leave, then hauled himself the rest of the way up onto his bed. They were still alive, somehow. The ship hadn't been incinerated by the sun. But now a much slower killer was stalking them, in more ways than Harry realized. Mace knew it would only be a matter of time before many of the ship's systems would fail from the cold itself. The heating systems were critical not only in the basic climate control, but also for keeping things such as the water supply working. A hot shower was no longer an option—the hot water had likely failed within a couple of hours of the computer's failure. The water supply itself would freeze in a matter of hours. Did he tell Harry?

"Bloody hell... no hot water," said Harry, as he re-entered the compartment. He looked a lot better than he'd looked before he left. They guy had obviously taken the chance to get cleaned up. His hair was still stringy, but no longer matted to his head, and his face, although incredibly pale, was clean.

"Here. I need to tell you something." Mace indicated the spot on the edge of the bed, and Harry took a seat. "You noticed the hot water's not working."

"Yeah."

"The ship's freezing, like I warned you earlier. Everything eventually, including the water. Y'know how long we can survive without water, right?"

"Not long. My relatives were always careful."

"What?" Mace scowled, quickly piecing together what the young wizard was implying. He filed that away for later, but continued, "If you can't make that device work... we're dead."

"D'you have any sort of container we might use? Collect water in something, and I can put a warming charm on it to keep it from freezing."

"Dump that container out. I dunno, put the shit in that cupboard." Mace pointed to the cupboard at the other end of his bed.

"Got it—shit, what about the stuff in the cupboard?"

"Throw it on the floor."

Harry quickly followed the instructions, first emptying the cabinet, then transferring all the MREs into the cabinet, leaving behind a large, empty container. A cleaning charm was quickly cast on it, and he took off with it, only to return a few minutes later, with the now full container floating behind him.

"The water still works, but it's bloody cold." He let the container settle where it had been resting only minutes before, and put the cover back on it.

"A few more hours and it'll freeze." Mace thought for a moment. "The container will buy us a week, maybe. But Harry. We're gonna die here. It's just the shit of it. If the cold don't get us first, no food or water... I don't need to spell it out, right?"

"I'm not ready to give up yet, okay?" Harry huffed, "It just feels like... somehow this will work out. Just have to stick it out for a few days. A few days, we can make it can't we?"

"Yeah. Biggest worry right now is the cold."

"Working on it." He opened the door to the compartment, crossed the pod, and entered Capa's. He snatched all the blankets off the bed, as well as the pillows.

Mace only leaned back, and watched. The guy was persistent, that was for sure. Perhaps he didn't understand the word 'quit'. Just maybe, that would make all the difference in the world.

"The stuff on the walls, it's insulation, right?" Harry questioned, dumping another pile of blankets on the bed, being careful not to jostle Mace's injured leg too much.

"Yeah."

"Perfect. Gonna pull some off. A few heating charms should help. And I'm gonna grab the mattresses from the other compartments. And... well... hope you don't mind close quarters."

Mace shrugged. "Doesn't bother me any."

A half-hour later, Mace was more than impressed. Harry had scavenged mattresses from the other compartments, a number of insulation sections, and a number of blankets. From there, he assembled what looked like a box made out of insulation. The ends were sealed off for the most part, with a small gap left in one end so they could get in it. He applied a strong warming charm to the whole thing, as well as a cushioning charm on the floor. Then, the stack of pillows were thrown in, along with the last of the blankets.

"Well?"

"All right, all right, I'm impressed. Help me up." It was then Harry noticed he could see their breaths. Harry said nothing about it, but helped Mace off the bed, and slightly more awkwardly, helped him sit on the floor. The guy visually shivered, as he dragged himself the short distance to the makeshift shelter, and finally inside. Harry then grabbed the blankets off of Mace's bed. "Here."

"Right." Mace stuck his head out. "Gonna be a bitch, going to the bathroom."

"We'll cross that bridge when we need to. Here. These as well. And I'm making some chocolate tea."

"Looks and tastes like shit."

"I've had worse, trust me," said Harry, with a sour face, as he passed down two MREs, eating tools, and the items needed to make his rather disgusting beverage. Finally, blowing out a breath which formed a cloud in the chilly air, he squeezed into the shelter himself.

* * *

The shelter worked better than Harry could have hoped. The warming charm made the inside more than comfortable for the pair of them, and coupled with the extra blankets and pillows, Harry found himself shedding the borrowed jacket. For the first time in hours, he was truly warm and comfortable. No, they would not freeze today.

Mace had drifted off to sleep, the steady, gentle breathing told Harry all he needed to know: his friend was warm and comfortable for the first time since they'd met. Still, he felt a pang of sadness in that he could do nothing to completely fix the terrible injury to his leg. He could tell it hurt Mace greatly when he had to get up and move around. Even though he did his best to hide it, he would nearly go white with every step. Once they returned to his own world, getting the leg looked at would be a top priority. He blew out a breath, and checked his pockets. The books which had arrived with the hourglass were set off to the side, along with his wand, and Harry too, lay down to get a bit of rest.

_KAWHACK_! Harry sat up abruptly, at what sounded like breaking glass. His new friend sat up across from him, a look of shock on his face, and... his right hand was casting an eerie white-blue glow in the shelter. A spot on the back wall was still shimmering, as though a piece of ice had slammed into it.

"What... what did you do?"

"I... watch." Mace flung his hand forward, and... _KAWHACK_! A white missile exploded from his hand, to again impact the back wall of the shelter(2). The glow faded from his hand, and Harry sat there, staring, mouth agape at the graphic evidence of what his friend had just done.

"Explain!"

"This... I... I opened it, and... I dunno, it just... it just works." Mace passed over the book responsible. The cover had on it what looked like a hand, in some way. A hand of fire, perhaps. Below it, were a series of symbols Harry had never seen before, but an English translation was below it: "Ice Spike".

"Bloody hell. Show me again."

"I don't think I can. Can't call it back... it's like I don't have the energy to do it again."

"You depleted your magical reserves. But that's impossible!" Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, like he'd seen Snape do so many times. "This goes against everything..." Then a wicked grin crossed his face. "And I find it hysterical! Mace... you're a wizard!"

"With one spell. Uh huh."

"We'll work on that." Harry dared open the book himself.

He was caught off-guard by the effect. It was as if he were seeing in an instant, perhaps years of study. The mechanics behind it, the mental queue to call it up, and the motion to actually cast it. It was a frightening ability, as he saw the deadly effects of it. The spike could easily impale someone, if aimed just so. He momentarily giggled at the thought of Belletrix Lestrange being impaled by such a weapon. He closed the book, and was startled, as it simply vanished from his hand.

"Well?" Of course Mace wanted to see if Harry could do it. Harry, naturally, obliged, easily summoning a glowing ball of energy to his right hand, and let fly. The effect was identical, with perhaps a little more power behind it. Harry smirked, as he dispelled the glowing orb. "Poor Belletrix. She has no clue what's in store when next we meet. A shame I can't share the book with others though. Guess it has a limited number of reads." He tucked the rest of the books away. "When we get back to my world, we'll look at the others... rather not blow the place apart." Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Wish learning magic was that easy. God... a spell taught just by opening a book? Can't wait to show a pensieve memory to a few people. At least, once I get a few things sorted out."

"How d'you usually learn?"

"School. I mentioned the school I went to, right?" At Mace's nod, Harry continued, "Just before I turned eleven, I received an owl—a letter, I mean. It was an invitation to Hogwarts, where they teach young witches and wizards about magic. There's a bunch of subjects and so on."

"Sounds awesome."

"For a while, it was." Even in the darkened confines of the makeshift shelter, Mace could see Harry frown, his face not masking the hurt he was feeling. "The first year, I made my first friends ever. But every year after... there was always something going on. I'll show you some memories of it once I can get hold of a pensieve."

"What's a pensieve?"

"It's a device used to view memories. Except, rather than see it only from the point of view of the owner, it shows the entire scene. Really useful."

"It sounds like a time machine."

"Time travel." Harry winced.

"For real?"

"Yes, for real. F-forgive me if I don't want to share that right now... P-promises of a future that never happened." The last bit was mostly muttered to himself.

"You had lots of friends at your school?"

"No. Now that I think of it. It was a combination of things, I think... but really, up to the end of fifth year, I had a few friends... a few acquaintances, but really. Real friends... I could count on one hand." He was forced to rub his eyes again, but continued, "And now? The ones I thought were friends... only happily betrayed me and spilled all my dirty secrets in front of the Wizengamot, practically parading me around like a dirty whore. Some of my... some of my nightmares, they're there." He lay back down and rolled over to face the wall, visibly deflated. The thrill of seeing his new friend casting magic was crushed by the memories of his old ones. Their betrayal was still fresh and raw, even after four years. So overwhelmed by the memory of those betrayals, he barely noticed as Mace rolled up against him, slung an arm over him, and pulled him close. No, it was in that way that he fell to the bliss of unconsciousness.

* * *

The makeshift shelter aboard the Icarus II was gone, replaced by the entry hall of a large manor: Malfoy Manor, as he quickly realized, with several figures before him. One of them wore the crimson robes of the Auror corps.

"Tell me then, how is it that a measly boy managed to escape the confines of a place only one other has managed to escape?" It was not his own voice, but the voice of his nemesis.

"I'm s-sorry, my lord," the Auror whimpered, "We didn't know he was gone until this morning. The Dementors keep a more frequent watch, we only check once a day and make sure the prisoners are fed and watered. Please-"

"_Avada kedavra_."

Ignoring the now very dead Auror, he pointed a bony finger at the others. "Find out if the old man knows. Let us also be sure the Ministry is spending the appropriate resources in locating him. The boy must be in a place known to me, and accessible to me."

"Yes, my lord." The remaining group wasted no time fleeing from the room. Harry turned back to the dead Auror, while Nagini slithered up to him. "Dinner, Nagini."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At exactly the same time, news was also reaching Hogwarts. It still functioned as a school, but as more and more people were in danger from the Dark Lord and his mechanisms, more and more people were finding refuge within the walls of the ancient castle.

That particular morning, as the headmaster was about to leave his office to join the morning meal, the floo fired, and a rather shaken Cornelius Fudge stepped out of it, hastily brushing the ashes off his robes.

"Ah, Cornelius. I was just about-"

"Potter has escaped from Azkaban!" the minister announced, cutting straight to the issue at hand. "An Auror is missing... we're still trying to determine if he left willingly."

"DMLE's been alerted?"

"What? Oh, yes... Amelia knows. She's already pulling in her people as we speak."

"I'll be sure to let the Order know. Cornelius, it's imperative he be captured. If he should unite with Tom, everything could be lost."

"I know that Albus!" Fudge huffed. He calmed down, saying, "I can spare two additional Aurors here. What of his friends, the Granger girl and the Weasley boy?"

"Both of them have left the country, two years ago. I dare say, we won't be garnering any further assistance from either of them."

"Surely we could simply compel them to return?"

"And have the Canadian Wizarding government up in arms? I warned you, Cornelius, there were much simpler ways to gain a conviction. Instead your Aurors crossed into rather dangerous territory with their tactics. I need not say what will happen, should Harry ever get his conviction overturned."

"That will never happen, Albus!" Fudge exclaimed, "Not while I'm Minister."

"Just do keep in mind, things do have a way of sorting themselves out. Now I do believe I have an unscheduled meeting to attend to."

* * *

Harry was jolted awake by the stabbing pain in his scar. He sat up abruptly, knocking Mace's arm aside. Harry could feel his heart pounding violently against his ribcage.

"Harry?"

"It's... it's nothing." Harry lay back down, but his mind was still on what he'd just seen. Of course Voldemort would find it useful that Harry was locked away in Azkaban. It would have been much easier to get rid of him when it came time. Harry let a smirk briefly cross his lips. So much for planning, Tom!

"No... really, what is it?"

"My nemesis knows I've escaped from Azkaban. That means, the old man'll know soon enough," answered Harry, flipping over so he was facing his friend. The warming charm was losing its effect, and Harry dreaded the idea of having to leave the shelter. He'd have to apply a stronger warming charm, then. "Either way, good luck finding me." He propped himself up on one arm, and picked up the hourglass again. He was frustrated once again, as the device failed to work.

* * *

The following morning, the warming charms placed on the shelter no longer had any effect, with the pod looking more like a freezer than a living space. Harry insisted on looking after the food and the like, leaving his friend inside the shelter. Once the food was prepared, he passed both plates inside, and then set out to cast heating charms on the shelter.

Next thing he knew, he was again bundled up inside the shelter, with Mace looking very concerned.

"You blacked out again, outside. What did you do?"

"Tried to cast a heating charm." Harry let out an involuntary shiver. The place was cold.

"Here. Eat. And your... whatever this is." A cup and a plate were passed over with shaking hands. Harry ate quickly, realizing he was starving. He grimaced, sucking down the mud-like concoction.

"That's fucking gross."

"I've had worse, trust me," said Harry, as he vanished the dishes, "You haven't had vile until you've had one of Professor Snape's potions. Burnt socks, rotten cabbage... most vile, nasty, gross flavours you can possibly imagine, you can likely find them in a potion."

Mace shook his head. "Great. Looking forward to it." The sarcasm could be cut with a knife.

With each passing minute, the cold continued to seep into the small shelter, completely unabated by the weak warming charms Harry had put on it. Harry kept trying the strange hourglass every so often, but with the same disappointing result every time. Time was running out on them, and they both knew it.

"Ha—Harry?"

"Yeah." They were curled up together, both shivering uncontrollably. Mace knew already it was the onset of hypothermia, caused by the cooling of the body.

"Look... at me." Harry forced himself to roll over, so they were facing each other. In the dim light, they both looked blue about the lips and ears.

"Just had to... tell you... I wish I'd m-met you sooner, Harry." He smiled, although it was difficult given the circumstances.

"I'm sorry it... ended up like this. If... if anything, m-m-mum and dad are waiting for me... and S-sss-sirius. I'll b-b-be with them again."

"Th-there's no afterlife, Harry."

"Believe me there is. It'll be okay. D-d-dumbledore said once... 'Death is but the next... great adventure(3).'"

Mace only smiled again, reaching up a cold hand to brush the stringy hair out of Harry's face. "Searle s-s-said we're all just stardust in... in the end." Harry reached up a trembling hand, and gripped his friend's. The edges of his vision were beginning to dim, and both realized they had run out of time.

"Kiss me, Harry." And Harry obliged. The last thing Harry saw, were the soft grey eyes of his friend.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: I should point out here, Harry is nearly 19, while Mace is 25 (based on the age of the actor who portrayed him, when the movie came out in 2007... I've actually made him a year younger, to further close the age gap), so the age gap isn't quite as ridiculous as I've had things in the past._

_(1) Taken from p.710 & 711, "Order of the Phoenix", Canadian soft cover edition. Verbatim text._

_(2) According to the Elder Scrolls Wiki: "Ice Spike is an Apprentice-level Destruction spell in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Similar to the path of an arrow, the caster ejects a spike of ice from the palm. The spell requires time to charge as well as time to reach its target, evening the ratio between damage and accuracy." I find it rather ironic, that Mace picks up a tome which teaches him control of the very element which nearly resulted in his death. Also, I'm drawing on the concept that Tamrielic magic works very different than Harry's. There are other factors at work that most certainly twist the normal logic here. Another hint for those who haven't guessed the answer to my previous question: the hourglass is a Daedric artifact, given to Harry by its owner. So... a Muggle gaining the ability to cast magic? A cakewalk, to a Deadric prince, no?_

_(3)Taken from p.215, "Philosopher's Stone", Canadian soft cover edition. Verbatim text._


	4. Dumbledore's Unexpected Guests

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Original posting April 12, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 4-**

**DUMBLEDORE'S UNEXPECTED GUESTS**

* * *

_June 24, 2000_

_Hogwarts_

Albus Dumbledore was in a twist. No, he was angry. No, he was furious. For over twenty-four hours, the headmaster had been unable to get into his office. The stone gargoyle which protected the entrance to the office refused to step aside, no matter how much he coaxed, placated, or threatened it—and he'd most certainly not changed the password. The floo also refused to work, as did apparition, forcing him to retreat to Grimmauld Place overnight.

A query of the wards had found nothing out of the ordinary, and discussion with his colleagues had also bore no fruit. He even had several Order members attempt to fly up to the office on brooms, but no one was able to get close enough to have a look through the windows, let alone climb through. It was as if the wards themselves had sealed the office for some reason.

Enquiries to the portraits also yielded no answers, as they too were prevented from entering the office. Equally alarming, the occupants of the portraits inside the office seemed to be locked in there, unable to communicate with the rest of the school. That behaviour greatly alarmed the headmaster. Someone, had somehow commandeered his office.

On a last ditch hunch, he summoned Fawkes, after retreating to the staff room. The bird certainly appeared, and Dumbledore swore the bird was smirking at him.

"Is there someone in my office?" Dumbledore demanded. The bird answered with a happy trill.

"Are they a danger?" The bird looked at him oddly, and let out an indignant squawk, as if to say, "Are you kidding me?" Before he could ask another, the bird flashed away.

The headmaster sank down into one of the chairs, frustrated. At his age, he'd seen just about everything. Being a patient man, he would simply wait until whoever it was occupying his office was finished. Perhaps, then, they could have a lengthy conversation into the hows and the whys of such an intrusion.

* * *

"Expiring so soon? Oh, no, we can't have that!" came a voice from the white void, "Let's give that knob one more twist, shall we? After all, there is madness yet to be had!" The voice belonged to someone older, someone with a Scottish accent? No, sounded partly Irish, too. Weird.

"But... who are you?" Harry called out, his voice slick—as if he'd just eaten a tablespoon of peanut butter.

"In time we will meet, young mage, In time, yes yes! -what? What is it? Pelagius has returned? Well, let us have some more wine... and some cheese!"(1) Harry's last thought as his vision dimmed: whoever it is, he's stark raving mad!

And, although Harry did not see or feel it, somewhere deep within the pockets of Harry's borrowed jacket, the hourglass turned a brilliant shade of green which would have easily matched Harry's eyes. With a deafening CRACK, a whirling mass was sent hurdling across time and space.

* * *

Harry felt warm for the first time in several days. If he'd died, maybe.. this wasn't such a bad thing. His mum and dad would be along soon, he imagined, allowing a smile to form on his lips. And then-

"Harry?" His eyes flew open, and the dream shattered into reality. The smile did not fade, however, as emerald eyes again met grey ones. "Where are we?" came the question. Harry chanced a look around.

"Dumbledore's office. We're at Hogwarts." Harry could feel the magical energy humming around him, a sensation he'd not experienced before. It was as if his body had been starved of it for so long. He glanced up at the largest portrait in the room. "Where is Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

"He won't be intruding on you any time soon," answered the portrait, "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you." Harry looked at Mace. "How do you feel?"

"No longer frozen. Fuck, nearly as painful as swimming in the coolant tank."

"Right." Harry sat up, and quickly shed his borrowed jacket. He then drew his wand, and vanished the pile of pillows, bedding, and mattresses that had somehow made the trip with them. "Professor, how long have we been here?"

"Going on thirty-six hours, my boy."

"Who... who are you?" Mace dared ask, finally realizing what he was actually seeing.

"I am Professor Armando Dippet. I was the previous headmaster of Hogwarts, before Albus Dumbledore took over. We are all here to continue to assist the current headmaster or headmistress with the running of the school."

"Damn. That's awesome."

"Just be ready for anything, Mace," said Harry, "You've not seen anything yet." Harry thought for a moment, then asked, "If we were here for over a day... someone helped us."

"Your little friend was more than insistent, yes," said Dippet, "Although I do believe Professor Snape is rather suspicious of the missing potions."

"I'll compensate him soon as I'm able."

"And Mr. Potter. We all know who is truly to blame for young Mr. Creevey's death. You all have our utmost support."

"Thank you, professor. It means a lot. It's too bad so many people are quick to put blinders on, and ignore what's truly going on." Harry let out another little smirk, then said to no one in particular, "Dobby?"

_POP_. The strangest creature Mace had ever saw appeared in front of Harry. Half the size of a human being, it had ears that resembled a bat's, a long, pointed snout, and tennis-ball-sized green eyes.

"Harry Potter sir! Dobby is finding you and your friend not well! Dobby did his best to fix it, Professor Snape is in a most foul mood, sir!"

Harry had to let out a laugh. "No doubt there, Dobby. You've been right brilliant." He turned slightly, and said, "Dobby, I want you to meet a new friend. This is Mace. We met... um... a couple of days ago." Harry felt his face get hot. "Mace, this is a dear friend of mine, Dobby."

"Um... pleasure." Mace offered a hand, still sitting on the floor, and Dobby shook it enthusiastically. Harry had to smirk. The elf hadn't gone bonkers being introduced to one of his friends this time.

"Dobby, we actually need a favour. Since the professors here assure me we won't be interrupted any time soon, d'you mind bringing us up something from the kitchen?"

"Right away, Harry Potter, sir!" and with another POP, the elf was gone.

"So... he did—holy shit! My leg!" It was only then Mace realized his leg no longer hurt.

"I assure you, your little friend was quite busy, Mr. Potter," said Dippet.

"No doubt there. Merlin... if Professor Snape ever caught him..." Harry's features darkened a moment. He offered a hand, and helped Mace to his feet. He looked a little wobbly for a moment, but it quickly passed.

"How did we get here?" he asked, peeling off his jacket, much as Harry had done.

"I dunno. Maybe the hourglass went off on its own. Quite honestly, I don't care. Point is, we're no longer freezing to death... and if Dobby is helping us now, that's a good thing. And if he can't..." Harry pointed to a rather ornate perch, on which rested a crimson-coloured bird, the likes of which Mace had never seen before. It peered back at them with black, beady eyes.

"What... what kind of bird is that?"

"He's a phoenix. Fawkes. He's Dumbledore's familiar."

"His pet, you mean."

"Well..." Fawkes chose that moment to let out a musical trill, although to Harry, it sounded like a scolding. "Err... definitely not a pet. I don't know quite the difference, but it's like a bond. Much deeper than a pet, I guess." He crossed the floor and reached up, stroking the bird gently, and was rewarded with another musical call. To Mace, the sound was both calming and uplifting.

"You feel it?"

"Yeah."

"The phoenix is a strong symbol of the light. His tears have immense healing properties—when I was in second year, I nearly died... would have, had it not been for Fawkes. He can also carry extraordinarily heavy loads. That same incident, he helped a group of us to safety. Four students and an incapacitated teacher."

Mace furrowed his brow a moment, but then smirked. "Jesus. If you'd told me that before... well... me seeing any of this... I would've called B.S."

"B.S.?"

"Bullshit."

"Right," Harry grinned, then said, "Some stuff is pretty unbelievable. Just keep in mind... just about anything is possible."

It was then Dobby reappeared, an enormous platter almost as big as he was hovering in front of him. With a snap of the fingers, the small table in the lower chamber of the office was cleared, and all the knick-knacks which covered it shuffled off to other locations. The platter was placed there in its stead, and with another snap of the fingers, two chairs zipped over. Harry found himself grinning again. It looked like Dobby had brought enough to feed all of Gryffindor tower.

"So if this is the headmaster's office... what's keeping him out?" Mace finally asked, as they finally finished eating.

"I dunno. The wards, maybe."

"Wards?"

"Um, magical shields. I know there are a lot of enchantments on the castle and so on, wards being one of them. But I have a suspicion of who's actually doing it. You've just met him."

"Your elf friend?" Mace furrowed his brow.

"Before my second year, he stopped me from receiving my mail, framed me for underaged magic, and nearly prevented me from getting back to Hogwarts. So I wouldn't put it past him," Harry explained, "So locking someone out of their own office... not much of a challenge, really." Dobby popped in, and quickly vanished the remains of their meal.

"Dobby. Are you keeping Dumbledore out of the office?" The elf nodded enthusiastically. "Brilliant. But..." Harry glanced over at Mace. "You're feeling a hundred percent?"

"Yeah, think so."

"Good." Harry smiled. It was one of those creepy smiles, which usually didn't bode well for someone. "Show me your ice spike."

"This?" A glowing ball appeared in his right hand.

"Perfect. Dobby, if you could cancel your, um... well, whatever charms you're using that's keeping the old fool out."

"Right away, Harry Potter, sir!" and the little elf simply snapped his fingers. Harry smirked again, and led Mace back up to the main part of the office. "Stand there... perfect... Dobby, you mind sticking around?"

"Of course! Dobby is happy to help his friends."

"Great." Harry smirked again, and took a seat in the headmaster's chair behind the desk.

"So he'll know?" Mace questioned. He was at this point standing to the right of the headmaster's chair.

"Yeah, likely." Harry pulled the wand out of the waistband of his pants, and put it on the desk. "You might want to douse that for now. Just wanted to make sure you could do it."

"Right." The glowing orb vanished from Mace's hand.

"No magic I've heard of, but it'll catch him off guard if you get my meaning. Dobby. Once the headmaster comes in, d'you mind throwing up your, um, barriers again? I'd rather us not be interrupted."

"You don't plan on actually harming the headmaster, Harry?" came Dippet's enquiry.

"No, sir. Just want some answers I believe I'm entitled to."

"Very well then. Most understandable."

It was at that point which the door in the lower part of the office opened, and the headmaster entered. As soon as the door closed again, Dobby again snapped his fingers. Dumbledore frowned a moment, seeing the pair at his desk, but quickly reset his features, putting on his grandfatherly face.

"Ah, Harry. I see you've been borrowing my office for a time."

"You could say that, sir. And it's Mr. Potter to you. We aren't on friendly terms." the mask slipped momentarily, but Dumbledore simply nodded.

"That's close enough."

"I see you have a friend with you."

"I'm not here to discuss him. Let me only say, we've been through a bit of an adventure together." Harry rose from where he was sitting, and put his hands on the desk, then fixed the headmaster with a most withering icy gaze. "Headmaster, you betrayed me. You betrayed my trust in a most spectacular way. Tell me... why? After telling me I was your only hope for defeating Voldemort... three or four days... and I was framed, railroaded through a farce of a trial, and thrown into Azkaban. Tell me, what purpose did that serve?"

"The evidence—" Dumbledore began, but Harry slammed a hand down on the desk. "To HELL with evidence, Dumbledore! You could have administered Veritaserum! You could have drawn PENSIEVE testimony! No, instead, you and the bunch of fucking sheep in that useless Ministry just went by my backstabbing peers, believing whatever tripe they spewed from their poisoned lips... seized an opportunity to be rid of me. I hope it was worth it. Because quite honestly, I won't raise a finger to stop Voldemort now. You can all hang as far as I'm concerned."

"Harry-"

"It's Mr. Potter."

"Mr. Potter... surely you do not mean that. What would your mother say?"

"DON'T drag my parents into this!" Harry crackled right back, "How dare you. No, what would my parents think of _you_, committing the same treasonous, venomous act twice! My godfather rotted in that same hell hole I was in for twelve years! TWELVE fucking years and I still don't know how he managed to stay sane! Yet you committed the same blunder with _me_! No, my parents would be right furious with you."

"Mr. Potter, you have to—"

"I'm not done, knave! I PROMISE you this. I will go after the lot of you for this travesty. Where are my things? My trunk, my broom, y'know... my photo album?"

"I do believe a certain pair of twins may have them," Dumbledore answered, sadly, "They were quite vocal in your defence."

"Good. At least not all the Weasleys stabbed me in the back."

"No, Mr. Potter, I daresay they didn't. Molly and Arthur resigned from the Order not long after you were imprisoned."

"Wonderful. My vault?"

"It was seized by the government. Harry—Mr. Potter, you were convicted of a serious crime."

"Right. Framed, you mean." He picked up the wand from the desk, and gestured to a cabinet off to the side of the office. "_Accio_ pensieve. Care to be enlightened, sir?"

The headmaster only frowned, but approached the desk, as his pensieve floated over. To Mace, it looked like an ordinary bowl, with a shimmering liquid in it. Harry was already pointing his wand at his temple, dragging what looked like a silvery strand of hair out of it.

"What am I about to see?" Dumbledore asked.

"My view of events, leading up to my arrest. This is what I remember, and Professor. I swear on everything, including my life, that this memory is whole and true." He dropped the silvery strand into the shimmering liquid. Dumbledore stuck a finger in the liquid, and seemed to freeze. Harry sat back down in the headmaster's seat, and blew out a breath. He felt a hand gently grip his shoulder, and was grateful for the support of his new friend.

Friend? Harry thought back to their last moments on board the Icarus II. Had they died, it would have been a wonderful final memory. Sure, they were freezing, but what they had done had shoved the misery aside. But... over two and a half days?

"What are we?" Harry dared question.

"What do you mean?"

"What was the last thing we did on board your space ship?"

"You mean this?" Harry was surprised, as Mace grabbed him by the shirt, and they locked lips again.

Only with a throat clearing, did they come up for air. Dumbledore had returned from the pensieve. Harry could hear some of the portraits muttering and clearing throats as well, and he knew if he could see himself, his face would be a lovely shade of red about now. The feeling fled, however, as Harry turned his full attention to the headmaster. "Well?"

"As unfortunate as your experience may have been, it still does not clearly show you were not responsible. No matter what kind of pensieve testimony you may be able to demonstrate, you do know none of it can be used before the Wizengamot. Memories can be tampered with."

"Then I'm wasting my time talking. I can see it. You've branded me a dark wizard. Did you do the same thing when Tom Riddle was a student? No, you gave him chance after chance after chance. That's one of the reasons he's the monster he is today, isn't it, sir?"

"I daresay, yes, I did make many mistakes with young Mr. Riddle, much as I have made with you. It's unfortunate we did not draw parallels—"

Harry burst out laughing. "Oh Merlin. Tell me another one!" He calmed himself. "Saying that, you again insult me and my parents. Becoming a dark wizard would equally sully their memory." He thought for a moment, then said, "Since I can't make you see reason, I guess we're done here. Just think you should know, professor. I thought of you as a grandfather at one point. I thought you cared. Now I know that to be a lie. If you really cared, you would have protected me. And now... when the day comes, you will lie in the bed you made."

"I think I've had just about enough of this, Harry," said Dumbledore, his features shifting, his hand reaching into his pocket for his wand. He was able to draw it, but before he could actually level it in Harry's direction-

KAWHACK! A spear of ice shot from Mace's hand, to impact with the headmaster's forearm, sending the long, slender wand clattering off against a nearby cabinet. Dumbledore actually fell over, the icy projectile now lodged in his arm.

"_Accio_ WAND!" Harry snapped, and the wand flew into his hand. "Here."

"What?"

"Here. It's yours, I think." Harry tossed the captured wand to Mace. "Dobby... d'you mind seeing to the headmaster? The hospital wing, I think."

"Harry, you must... you cannot avoid the ministry forever," said Dumbledore, weakly, trying to sit up. The icy projectile was more than painful.

"I can certainly try." Dobby at this point reached down and gripped the headmaster by the robes, and they vanished with a noisy _POP_.

"Fuck, Harry. Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"You? Never. Dumbledore betrayed me... and so did a lot of others. That's why I'm so pissed at him right now."

"If I were you, I would be looking into leaving the country, Potter," Spoke the portrait of Phineas Black, "The Ministry most certainly knows of your escape."

"Thanks for the heads up. That sounds like a plan."

_POP_. "Dobby has taken Professor Dumblydore to the hospital wing."

"Great. Dobby, d'you mind locating Professor McGonagall?"

"Right away, Harry Potter, sir!" He popped away.

"Is he on your shit list?"

"She. And no, definitely not. She came to visit me a few times... and she didn't betray me in front of the Wizengamot. Right now, there's only two professors here I actually trust, and she's one of them." Harry again took a seat behind the headmaster's desk. "I just need to ask her a about someone's whereabouts."

It seemed only a minute later, that Dobby returned, along with the tall deputy headmistress.

"My word."

"'lo, professor," said Harry, with a weak smile.

"How is it you came to be here, Potter?"

"I still don't know exactly, Professor. Thank you for standing up for me at my trial. It means a lot."

"It was the right thing to do." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "You escaping, on the other hand..."

"I've got it in hand. As much as I'm certain a few of you have been working to get me released, I think you all know how that would work... or not. I'll force them to see the truth, one way or another."

"Being an escaped fugitive only diminishes your credibility, Potter. Surely—" She stopped, seeing the wand in Mace's hand. "Where is the headmaster?"

"Dobby took him to the hospital wing—he was still conscious when he left, if that will put you at ease. He went to draw on me. My friend here didn't take kindly to it."

"I see." Her lips were pursed so thin at this point they were almost nonexistent.

"I won't be carted off back to Azkaban, Professor. I don't want to, but I will do bodily harm if it's necessary. As it stands I have a long list of individuals I will be having a conversation with."

"Why not sue them, Harry?"

"It's not that simple, Mr..."

"James Mace... but everyone just calls me Mace."

"Knew I was forgetting something. Mace... this is Professor McGonagall."

"Pleasure." They shook hands briefly.

"Professor. I need to get in touch with Fred and George. D'you know where they are these days?"

McGonagall pursed her lips again, and Harry grinned, knowing what she was thinking. "They have a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Molly swears up and down if she ever determines who gave them the funds to start such a venture... though it is good to see them succeed."

"Thanks, Professor." Harry looked at Mace. "Just about time to go."

"And Potter. It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, professor. Try and keep the old man in line, eh?" Harry looked down at Dobby. "Can you get us to Diagon Alley?"

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir!" He offered a hand to both men.

"Take care, Professor." And with that, they vanished with a noisy _POP_.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES:Hmmm... not quite the reviewer response I was hoping for, but I see lots of you are subscribing for updates. If you're subscribing for updates, you must like it somehow, right? How about posting a comment, tell me what you like about it... or some constructive feedback, I like that sort of thing as well. 'Course, flames will be used to roast Dumbledore...  
_

_(1) Okay, this is probably the biggest clue yet. If you've not played the Elder Scrolls games, you'll still be in the dark. Those of you who have.. if you haven't figured it out yet... shame :P_


	5. On the Same Page

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know! Also, the story description has been updated to reflect a 'small' change in the plotline, although I've been toying with it for a while. FYI, I've completed chapter 19, and Harry's just sent a rather strange missive to Voldemort... and those of you that have this story on alert, please be aware, chapter one now has an additional opening scene that's rather important.  
_

_Posted April 19, 2012._

**-CHAPTER 5-**

**ON THE SAME PAGE**

* * *

The three of them landed in an alcove just off the street, a pile of crates obstructing their view. Dobby looked about ready to pop away, but Harry put a hand on his tiny shoulder. "You mind sticking with us?"

"Dobby would be happy to, Harry Potter, sir!"

"Great. We need to find Fred and George's shop."

"Dobby is knowing where it is!" He offered his hands again, and they popped away.

They landed behind yet another store, and this one... it was like getting a firework in the face. Even the back of the building seemed to clash violently with the somewhat drab buildings on either side. Harry had to suppress a laugh, as he made to knock on the back door. It opened before his hand got there.

"Well, what do we have here?" The guy had short, red hair and a fair complexion. The outfit he wore was every bit outlandish as the building.

"'lo, George. Care to harbour a fugitive?"

"Harry! Gods, come in, come in!" Harry and Mace found themselves pulled into the shop, Dobby quickly following.

"How did you? You really escaped from that place?"

"For real. Is it safe for us to be here a minute or two?"

"We can close up if you want. Been a little slow today as it is."

"George? Who—Harry?" Fred joined his twin.

"Yeah, it's me. I need a favour or two."

"Name it," said George.

"Anything for our silent partner," Fred threw in.

"We-" Harry gestured to Mace, "need to get out of the country. That means I need some coin. I hate to ask, but—"

"Mate, you helped us get all this started. Of course we'll help you."

"Would five hundred galleons suffice?"

"Bloody hell, no. Two hundred at most, guys. I won't clean out everything you have—"

"He's got no idea, does he, George."

"No clue, Fred."

"Harry. We collect that in a week, easily. If anything, we would consider it repayment for you helping us out."

"All right, all right, sold. And thanks, guys. I have a very short list of allies right now."

"And you've gained another, by the looks of it. Fred-"

"And George Weasley," they introduced.

"James Mace." They shook hands. "Just call me Mace." He shook his head, having only just said that to the professor back at Harry's school.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well, considering I just introduced myself to three different people in a matter of seconds... how far away is your school from here?"

"He's not been in the magical world long?" came George's question.

"We, um... well... had a bit of an adventure together. He's—"

"Just learned I'm a wizard," Mace finished, partially drawing the captured wand from his jacket pocket.

"Well! You're in good hands there, mate," said Fred.

"Yeah, Harry's a wicked teacher. Helped us all pass our NEWTs in Dark Arts Defence," George finished.

"A... subject in your school," Mace guessed, to which the others nodded. George, meanwhile, was unlocking a strongbox with his wand. He reached inside, and pulled out a small bag. "Harry. Here. If you don't want to accept this as a gift, then take it as an indefinite loan."

"Thanks guys, it's brilliant. I'll pay it back once I get my estate back."

"The Order is still using, um, Sirius' house... for their headquarters," said Fred.

"But word has it you're the rightful owner, if you get my drift."

"Our oldest brother would likely help you, say, chase out a few pests."

Harry grinned madly. "See, Mace, this is why it's not a good idea to get on the bad side of the Weasley twins."

Mace reached up and scratched at his ear. "Where's his house?"

"Here in London."

"That's not leaving the country."

"He's right," said Harry, "I'll deal with Sirius' house later on."

"Still might be a good idea to talk to Bill, Harry. Bill was more than irate when he heard what had happened to you."

"And Charlie?"

"Charlie's pretty pissed too. Ron and Ginny... and Percy... they're the only traitors," said Fred, seriously.

"Before I go, I'll send an owl to your mum and dad. Right now, you guys know how to reach Bill?"

"He's likely at work. Still working a desk at Gringotts since, well..." said George, "I'll pop over and pick him up. Probably better we meet here... Aurors spot you and so on."

"Right." George simply vanished with a _crack_.

"...the fuck?" Mace was more than shocked.

"It's apparition. A form of Wizarding transportation," Fred explained, "When did you learn you were a wizard?"

"Um... this morning."

"Really?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Like I said, we've been on a bit of an adventure these last few days. And quite honestly, even with everything that just happened to us, it's better than where I stood a few days ago. I could have died this morning... but I think... I would have been okay with that."

"And that would be why you're both dressed the way you are."

"This stuff was our uniforms where I come from," said Mace, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Harry's shit was pretty wrecked when we met."

"Better than the cast-offs I was saddled with at the Dursleys. For once, clothes that actually fit."

"For real?" Mace arched an eyebrow.

"Something I really don't want to get into. But know, my home life wasn't pleasant." he gave an honest smile. "If anything, I know I will never go back there. There's nothing on this Earth that can force me to."

"Well, we did rescue him the summer before his second year," Fred threw in, "They put bars on his bedroom window."

"How old were you?"

"I'd just turned twelve," Harry made a sour face. "They fed me through a cat flap." He let out a sigh. "Just, really. I don't wanna get into it. All that dragon shit is behind me now."

"Sure." Mace frowned again, but let it drop.

There came another noisy pop, and George returned, bringing another individual with him. He looked very much like the twins, but older, with long ginger hair, tied back in a pony tail. His face carried three deep scars, and they looked quite recent.

"God, it's true," he practically exclaimed, "Harry, good to see you got away from that place."

"Agreed. Bill, this is Mace. Mace, Bill." The pair shook hands, but Bill turned back to Harry. "George tells me you want to leave England altogether."

"That's the plan. I'll work abroad to get things sorted out here. And then I'll deal with my former so-called friends."

"What year are we here anyway?" Mace asked.

"June of 2000," answered Harry, "What for?"

"Fuck, nearly sixty years back in time." Mace shook his head in disbelief. "We could fly... catch a commercial flight, right?"

Harry thought for a moment, then said, "That's brilliant! But..." His face fell. "We would need Muggle travel documents. I remember uncle Vernon complaining about them years ago. Something about a passport and so on."

"Harry. Leave that to me. I'll do a little bit of research, it shouldn't take long," Bill offered.

"How long?"

"Likely tomorrow morning."

"They'll need a place to stay then," said Fred.

"Not here," said George, shaking his head, "The Aurors have been in here more often as of late... and the Ministry likely knows he's escaped by now."

"The Burrow then," said Bill, "Mum and dad will help out."

"So I've heard already from Dumbledore. Wait. No, that won't do any good. The place is being watched."

"How do you know that?" Harry answered Bill's question, by lifting the stringy hair out of his face, to reveal his cursed scar. It was the first time Mace had seen it, and he ran a finger over it. "Damn. Feels just a few days old."

"Cursed scar. Sometimes, I see what Voldemort is up to. He's got most of the Order under watch in some way... although he doesn't seem to know Mr. And Mrs. Weasley have left it. No difference, it won't be safe for me there."

"Order headquarters? Just for tonight, at least."

"Then it'll likely be later in the day tomorrow for me to sort out what you need to travel," said Bill.

"Why?"

"Because, you'll need to take control of the wards on Sirius' property. That means likely an hour, likely more of my time."

Mace crossed his arms. "What difference would it make? A house is a house, right?"

"The place we're talking about is hidden by a Fidelius Charm. It literally hides a place from view, and people can't remember it even existed," Bill explained, "The only way you could know of it, is if you're given the secret. Let's see here..." Bill rummaged through his robes, pulled out a tattered piece of paper, tapped it once with his wand, and passed it to Mace. "You'll need to remember that." Mace looked at it, and read the narrow handwriting. It said:

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.(1)_

Mace looked confused for a moment, but handed the paper back. "What's the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Order of the roasted chicken, more like it," Harry muttered. Bill cleared his throat, clearly amused, while his brothers simply smirked. "Really. When have they actually done anything that's made any sort of difference? Any fight I've seen through this—" harry reached up and exposed his cursed scar again, "—the Order is always late to the show. The Death Eaters have for the most part finished what they were doing."

"Sounds like the fire department showing up at a house fire after the fire's almost out," Mace guessed.

"Something like that. I mean, what's the point?"

"Either way, guys, I'll pop over to Grimmauld Place first, see who's there." He vanished with a soft _pop_.

"Fred. George. Dumbledore said you guys have my trunk and the like."

"Ron had it for a while," said Fred, "Said he claimed the lot of it since you wouldn't be needing it anymore."

"Caught him using your broom," said George. A cold look of fury crossed Harry's face.

"Needless to say, we've kept everything for you. George, you mind?"

"Not at all, bro." He disappeared through a door, and footsteps could be heard going up a set of stairs.

"What about the map?"

"We think Granger may have it."

Harry scowled again. "Great. Great. Another conversation I'll be having sooner than I wanted to."

"What kind of map?" Mace asked.

"A map of Hogwarts. Not a whole lot of use to me now, but... it belonged to my dad." Footsteps were coming back down the stairs, and George reappeared, with a trunk floating behind him. "I can shrink it down if you like," he offered.

"Yeah, that's great," Harry answered. With a few simple wand movements, the trunk was reduced to the size of a pack of playing cards. Harry picked it up, and put it in his jacket pocket.

It was then there was a whoosh in the next room, and a moment later, Bill joined them. "Headquarters is clear now, but we've got about an hour before anyone tries to come back," He announced.

"Let's go then. Guys, thanks a ton, you've been brilliant."

"Any time, Harry," said George.

"Don't be a stranger, keep in touch," Fred added.

"Count on it. Knowing the way things usually end up for me, I need all the help I can get." He knelt down, so he was eye-level with Dobby. "Best you get back to Hogwarts. But I can call on you if need be, right?"

"Of course, Harry Potter sir!"

"It was good to see you again." He placed a hand on the elf's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze, then stood up. Dobby popped away.

"C'mon, we'll be floo'ing Grimmauld Place. Has your friend travelled by floo powder before?" Bill asked.

"No."

"You remember how it works?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll make sure to keep a good grip on him while we're travelling."

"Floo powder?" Mace was unsure of whether to be curious, or concerned.

"It's quite something. Important thing is to keep completely still until you're pushed out at your destination," Bill explained.

"And whatever you do, keep hold of me," Harry added. They were already in the next room, and Bill had grabbed a handful of floo powder from a pot beside the fireplace. He tossed the powder into the flames, causing them to roar a brilliant emerald green and tower over him. He called out, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" and simply stepped into the flames. Mace looked somewhere between astonished, and horrified. "F-fuck me sideways."

"Right then. Trust me, it's perfectly safe, if not a little unsettling. Like I said before, whatever you do, hold on until we're pushed out the other end. Ready?"

"Ready as I can be." Harry nodded, and activated the fire as Bill had. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" and with Mace right behind him, arms wrapped tightly around Harry's waist, they stepped into the fire.

Mace had experienced more than a few insane things in his life. After all, he _had_ been blasted into space along with seven others, sent on a mission to restart the sun. If that didn't qualify as insane, then what was? Travelling by floo powder, on the other hand, was throwing him for a loop. His lunch was doing loop-the-loops in his stomach, as they seemed to be spinning around insanely fast. It almost felt like he was being sucked down a drain... his ears popped several times, and then...

The pair of them were rather roughly ejected from the grate, to land in a heap on a stone floor. Harry quickly regained his bearings, making sure they'd landed where he had intended. He was relieved, for indeed it was the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

It was then he got a look at his friend. Harry could not stifle a giggle.

Mace frowned. "What?"

"Mate... you look like you rolled around in an ash pit."

"So do you."

"Prat."

"Shithead."

"If the pair of you are quite done." Both of them looked up to see Bill standing off to the side, smirking. A simple gesture from his wand and the pair found themselves cleaned up.

"Thanks, Bill," said Harry, scrambling to his feet. Mace had done the same.

"Right. We don't have a lot of time, so let's get started." Bill drew his wand, continuing, "Since Sirius passed you ownership of the property, you already have access to the wards. It's only a matter of you getting in touch with them, and once you do, you'll be able to make changes to them. It's important you focus your mind, distractions will prevent you from properly communicating with the wards." Bill flicked his wand absently toward the corner of the room, causing a small ripple of pink energy to radiate in all directions.

"What was that?"

"The wards reacting to a gentle probe. Did you feel it?"

"It felt like… someone had flicked my hair."

"I'm going to do it once more, and this time, try and 'see' where it's happening. Focus on my casting, then search for it in your mind." Bill again flicked his wand at the corner, and this time, Harry searched out the sensation mentally. He almost missed it, but… there it was. "Do it again." Bill obliged, and this time, Harry caught the distinct 'ping', and more importantly, where it had come from: the kitchen. He also got a taste of foreign magic. He mentioned this to Bill.

"That was my magical signature." He pinged the wards again, and Harry nodded, understanding what was happening.

For the next half hour, Bill led Harry through a series of exercises which taught him basic communication with the wards he now controlled. Most of it was understanding the messages being sent by the wards, but most importantly, it was also about control of them… the primary goal of the lesson.

"Now we get to the reason for the lesson. Modifying the access list. Many places are set up with a blanket exclusion of everyone, with a white-list of those who are allowed. I can't access the list, but this set of wards has a white list. You'll probably want to erase that and create a new one."

"How do I-"

_Crack_. Mace had already seen a house elf before, but this one which appeared in front of them was probably one of the ugliest creatures he'd ever seen. He was practically naked, save for the dirty tea towel worn like a loin cloth. He looked much older than Dobby was, with wrinkled skin, and white hairs growing out of his bat-like ears. "Master has returned to my mistress's house with the _blood-traitor_ and a _Muggle_-" he practically spit the words blood-traitor and Muggle.

"Shut up, Kreacher!" Harry snapped, "What do you want?" Of course, inheriting the house, he'd also inherited the little monster standing in front of him.

"Master is banishing the old whiskered one from the house?"

"Yes, among a few others."

"Kreacher, I know there are ways to completely reset the access list," said Bill. Kreacher narrowed his eyes, but said, "Yes, possible. If that is what master wishes, then that is what the wards will do."

"Perfect." Now knowing how to access the wards, he projected those exact orders. He was pleased as he felt the wards ping several times.

"Well?" Bill asked.

"A number of loud pings in the back of my head."

"The elf tells the truth. Thanks for the help, Kreacher." The elf again narrowed his eyes at Bill.

"Right. Think it's time we had a little conversation, then," said Harry, his features seeming to darken. This was not lost on Mace, and he reached over to put a hand on Harry's shoulder in support.

"Thanks."

"Kreacher is listening."

"Good. I need you to know something. I was more than angry with you, for what happened to Sirius... even after four years, it still really hurts, what happened to him... and knowing you had a part in it. I know you two didn't get along, but he meant everything to me. He was family… something I haven't ever had. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that it really hurt when you lied to my face. You know I could punish you for that now, even long after the fact. I don't plan to, but I want one thing to be crystal clear. You are bound to my service. That means, you will not ever disobey me, lie to me, or betray me in any way, shape or form. You do so, and I will give you clothes. Is that understood?"

"Yes, master," Kreacher croaked, then muttered, "Friend of Mudbloods and blood traitors-"

"You are also forbidden from using the terms Mudblood or blood traitor ever again. I find it offensive, and so do my... my friends. Is that understood?"

"Kreacher understands."

"Good. I promise, although I am your master, I will always treat you kindly and with respect. I don't like forcing you do do anything, it's not right... and even now, I'm not comfortable having to demand things from you. What I want you to remember, is if you need anything at all, just ask."

"Most unnatural, but... Kreacher understands. Regulus, good boy he was, he also treated me kindly."

"Sirius' younger brother," Harry remembered, to which Kreacher nodded slowly. "What was he like?"

"Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper pride; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns… and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve…" (2)

For the next hour, Kreacher related the tale in which he was volunteered by Regulus to assist the Dark Lord, a task that involved a visit to an underground lake, a most vile potion, a return to said lake, the reclaiming of the locket, and Kreacher's failed attempts to destroy said locket.

"But Kreacher... I still don't understand... why was the locket so important?" Harry asked, finally.

"Master Regulus said it was the darkest magic, tearing the soul-"

"Hell and damnation," Bill exclaimed, "He's created Horcruxes!"

"He's made what?"

"A Horcrux. An item used as a container for a fragment of a person's soul. It's some of the darkest magic imaginable. Harry, if he's made these things, he will be impossible to destroy until they're gone."

"Kreacher. Do you still have it? The locket?" At the elf's nod in the positive, Harry said, "Could you fetch it, please?"

"Of course, Master." He popped away with an equally noisy _crack_. Bill, meanwhile, still looked like he was going to be ill.

"Dumbledore needs to know."

"Knowing how he works, he probably already knows, Bill. That man could have done so many things to clear my name, but he did none of them. He wanted the perfect moment, to toss me into battle like a Muggle grenade with the pin pulled. That was what he was hoping for."

"Why?" was Mace's simple question.

"Power. Four years in prison gives you lots of time to think, right. The man saw an opportunity to push me out of the way, and he took it. So I don't doubt for a second he already knows about the Horcruxes."

"You think there are more than one." Bill looked even more ill.

"Second year. Tom Riddle's diary. It all makes sense now. And think about it. He's likely created several."

"And you will have to destroy them all, before you can deal with the monster himself."

_Crack_. Kreacher reappeared in front of them, bringing with him a locket on a golden chain. He held it out, and Harry took it. He could already hear whispers coming from it, spoken in the language only he and one other understood: Parseltongue, the language of snakes.

"Here. On the table," Bill indicated the kitchen table. Harry put it down, and Bill gestured with it with his wand, muttering several spells. His features darkened. "Bloody hell."

"What kind of magic would destroy it? That's what you guys need to be thinking then, right?" Mace pointed out, reaching out to touch the object.

Bill swatted his hand away. "NO. Don't touch it. You're still... still new at all this."

"He's right though," Harry agreed, "How do we destroy them?"

"Something that will inflict a lot of damage. It has to be damaged beyond magical repair. Feindfyre, the killing curse... typically dark magic, unfortunately."

"Basilisk venom," Harry remembered, "It's how I destroyed Tom Riddle's diary in second year."

"An item nearly impossible to get," said Bill, shaking his head.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Harry responded, another dark look crossing his features, "It's probably still there." He frowned, still hearing the cursed object whispering in its many voices. "Honestly though... for now, I'm not gonna worry about it. Kreacher. I want you to keep this hidden and safe. Don't show it to anyone without my permission."

"Of course, master," answered the elf, bowing low. He snatched up the locket, and vanished with a _crack_.

"Likewise, Bill. If word gets out... even though I'm really not interested in fighting the bastard right now, I'd rather it not get complicated. This shit makes it complicated as it is."

"Got it."

"You were gonna check into travel documents, right?" said Mace.

"Right. I'll need to return to Gringotts. You'll both be all right here?"

"Why shouldn't I? Kreacher's bound to me, right?"

"I need not repeat it, but still. Be careful." Bill was already activating the floo.

"We will."

"Gringotts!" and Bill stepped into the roaring green flames.

"That's so fucked up," Mace declared, shaking his head.

"No, the entire Wizarding world is fucked up," Harry said, with a scowl. He forced his frustration aside, and turned to face his friend. "Enough dire thoughts. When you disarmed Dumbledore... casting that ice spike... how did it feel?"

"Emotionally or physically?"

"Physically."

"It felt... weird. He held his hand out in front of him, and the blue-ish white orb appeared again. "When I have it charged... it feels like all the hairs on my forearm are standing on end. When I let it go... it feels like a surge of power going through my forearm."

"That's the discharge of magic, I suppose. Take out your wand." Mace doused the glowing orb from his hand, and drew the captured wand.

"Let's see if you can use it. A simple spell to start. Say, 'Lumos'."

"_Lumos_," Mace repeated. Nothing happened.

"Shit. Humour me, and give the wand a wave," Harry suggested. Mace did so, and the result was unspectacular. A single dim spark lit from the tip of it.

"Right, then... here. Try mine." Harry dug out the oddly curved wand from his pocket. Mace accepted it, gave it a wave, and was mildly surprised, as a bloom of blue sparks came off the tip.

"More like it. Hmmph. Don't know why that wand doesn't want to work for you. I'll help you get one that does. Let's try a spell again. 'Lumos'."

"_Lumos_." The tip of the wand lit with a soft white light.

"A quite useful spell in dark places. Nox cancels it."

"_Nox_," said Mace, and the light vanished. He thought for a moment, then went to hand the wand back.

"No. Hold on it. Since it seems you have some sort of magical core now, let me show you a few others. It's all first-year material, so it's pretty easy."

"Sure."

Dinner time rolled around, and both were effectively knackered by this point. For Harry, it was old hat, and a bit of a review. For Mace, it was a deeper look into the Wizarding world, and experiencing what it truly meant to be a wizard. As Kreacher set out Dinner, Mace finally asked, "Thing is, why? Fuck, four days ago I was just... I dunno, normal?"

"Mate... there's no such thing as normal. Insanity on the other hand... let's just say, some are crazier than others," Harry grinned. They looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"Searle would've liked you, Harry."

"One of your crew mates."

"He was the doctor and the shrink. 'course at times I thought I was saner than he was. Great guy though. He invented this room, right... it could simulate just about any environment."

"Have to get you into the Room of Requirement one day," Harry smirked, as he filled his plate. It was nice having food that both looked and tasted appetizing for a change. The MREs, as Mace called them, were food, but that was all. They looked and tasted terrible, reminding him too much of the gruel shit he was fed in Azkaban.

"The Room of Requirement?"

"Like your simulator, but created with magic. My fifth year, a bunch of us used it as a place to meet and study Defence Against the Dark Arts... bloody teacher we had was more than useless." Harry hesitated, but let his left hand rest on the table. Mace could easily make out the deep gouges in the skin, forming the words, '_I must not tell lies_'.

"Jesus. Looks like you carved your hand up with a scalpel."

"No. She had this big, black quill. It didn't need any ink, because it used my blood instead. Whatever I wrote was carved onto the back of my hand. She had me write lines... for hours on end."

"Fuck, I would've told someone."

"It was complicated, Mace. She ran the school. Even showing you this... I'm not comfortable."

"You'd keep that shit locked up inside you."

"Not now. I'm done playing martyr. Before... when all of this was happening, I was more concerned about others being hurt because of me. Now that I know what I'm really worth—what I really mean to the Wizarding world, I no longer give a flying fuck. They've burned me for the last time."

Mace watched as Kreacher carried off one of the empty dishes. "Kreacher. You don't sit with us?"

The elf turned around, narrowed his eyes, but answered, "Most improper, house elf sitting with his master, it is not done."

"But why?"

"It is the way it is. We are not to be seen or heard." The old elf shuffled off to the sink, and dropped the items into the sink, where they instantly began to wash themselves.

"I don't know a lot about house elves, but mostly they're treated like property, rather than... well... members of the family. Dobby was treated very badly by his previous owners." Harry smiled momentarily, but it vanished. "Hermione was always on about making things better for house elves. She even started leaving little knitted hats and so on around the Gryffindor common room... that went over real well." His comment was laced with sarcasm. "I mean, I'm still in the dark about a lot of things, but really. House elves don't want to be freed. Now, to serve a loving family? Absolutely. But they relish the work and so on."

"What's wrong with giving them clothes?"

"It would be like you getting sacked—Fired. It's something a house elf actually fears. Now as difficult as Kreacher is, I kind of need his help. And to have him bound to me, that's even better. If I need him to do something, I can easily call on him."

"He trustworthy?"

"As long as I don't leave any loopholes. But I think the biggest thing is we can't be nasty toward him, that just makes things worse. That was Sirius' mistake." Another cloud descended over the young wizard. They said nothing for the remainder of the meal.

"Harry?"

"Yeah."

"Just... You okay, man?"

"N-no." His eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I hated coming back here. This was Sirius' house. Too many things—memories here." Now, Mace understood the problem. Unfortunately, he also realized, they were likely in the safest place for now, from what he could figure out. Clearly, Harry had many enemies at this point. "Just... as soon as we can, we're leaving."

"No shit. This place is oppressive. Where did you sleep?"

"Y-yeah... good thought," Harry agreed, unemotionally. He slowly stood up. "It's... this way."

The room was a mess. It somewhat reminded Mace of his exploration of the Icarus I, with dust on just about every surface. Some of the furniture was broken, the contents of several drawers emptied onto the floor, and the curtains looked like they'd been shredded by a cat. A 'dive' was the first description to pop into his head.

"Jesus Christ, you actually slept in here?"

"It's been four years—four and a half, maybe. Kreacher doesn't really clean the place. Here. Time for another lesson." Harry drew his wand, and passed it to Mace. "A cleaning charm. Simple, but quite handy to know. The motion is like this..."

the rest of the evening was swallowed up with Harry teaching Mace a few more spells and charms, all with the intent of getting the room back into somewhat usable condition. The guy picked up the new spells more than quickly, and seemed to easily grasp the theory behind it. For Harry, it was once again providing a chance for him to review old material, since, in the back of his mind, he would need to be ready for sixth year. Somehow, some way, he would be completing his education, more than likely abroad.

"You don't mind sharing?" Harry questioned, as he removed his jacket, and left it folded on the dresser.

"No, 'course not."

"Good. Not really into doing any more cleaning at this point. Though if you want—"

"We're leaving tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. Right."

"'sides, I think we should stick close for now."

"G-good thinking." Harry felt his face get hot, and Mace smirked.

Harry looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

"I don't kiss someone unless I mean it."

"Err..."

"Harry. The only reason I'm alive right now, is because of you. I dunno how or why... with what you've been through—c'mon, I can piece together enough, right? How did you turn out sane, with all the shit you've been through? Fuck, man, you're much stronger than me or any of the others put together. Seriously."

"I doubt that. Stuck together with seven others for eighteen months? I don't think I would cope."

"I think you would have. Now, whether you would've got through the psych. Exams or not..."

"Probably not." That got a grin out of Harry. It vanished. "Still, what's all that got to do with—"

"I said before... all of us were like a family, right? But... two of them... um... there was an unwritten rule—our relationships were professional, that was it."

"Not that that would stop anyone."

"In our case, actually we did—at least for the most part," answered Mace, looking rather uncomfortable. They had finally gotten into bed, and now lay facing one another. "The mission was everything. Couldn't let shit like that get in the way. 'Course, it sort of did, long before we left Earth. Cassie and I, got rather heated for a while. Had it not been for Searle, she—possibly me too... we would've been pulled off the mission."

"What happened?"

"What do you think?"

'O', Harry mouthed.

"Cassie aborted the baby, of course, but fuck. It took a long time to get my shit sorted... same for her, I think. But we never talked about it again."(3)

"And the other?"

"Capa. The passenger, I kept calling him, in my head. But now I think of it, it was... I was attracted to him. And I think the feeling was mutual. We knew we couldn't act on it, so—"

"Unresolved sexual tension," Harry guessed, to which Mace slowly nodded.

"I was a bastard toward him sometimes. But now I think it was just to get a reaction out of him. But he did it to me right back..."

"Just like Ron and Hermione," said Harry, darkly, "Fifth year... before I was framed for murder... the pair of them fought like cats and dogs. I knew better than to get between them while they were fighting. Now I understand what was really going on. Gotta wonder if they got married yet—not that I really care."

"Which gets us back to what I'm trying to say. It's only been a few days, but it feels like... I've known you a lot longer, make sense?"

"You fancy me then?"

"Yes!" Harry felt his face get VERY hot with the admission, and although he couldn't see the guy's face, Harry imagined it was likely quite red as well.

"You realize I'm half-destined for the locked ward at St. Mungo's, right?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nutters? Bonkers? Loopy? Shall I go on?"

"Harry, I don't give a shit. Let me help you stay sane. When... when I saw your face... your eyes... were the most beautiful thing at that moment. You saved my life and I'll never forget that. I knew right then you were special, and I guess... I think you kind of stole my heart then."

"I see," said Harry, reaching up and touching Mace on the chest. The guy visually shivered from the contact. "Last thing I expected when I twisted the knob on that hourglass, was to be flung out into space, and land on a crippled spaceship. Thing is, I guess everything happens for a reason. Maybe we were meant to meet. Maybe I was meant to save you. Barring the fact it was the right thing to do... quite honestly, my reasons were selfish. I needed to know where I was. You were the only person left on the ship, so it was either save your life, or be stuck on a derelict spaceship, and quite possibly die there, alone.

"Now? If I had to do it over, without question, yes, I most definitely would. You didn't know me. I mean, really, you still don't—although you will, don't get me wrong. Right now, I feel more comfortable dealing with strangers, than the people I know. I've been betrayed by most of those I know-"

"Harry... I won't-"

"Just let me finish." Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, and he could feel his hands getting all sweaty. But he ploughed onward. Mace had bared his heart open and it was only fair Harry reciprocate, no matter how awkward it might be. "Being forced to be so close to one another in your compartment... even as dire as the situation was, part of me didn't want that to end. Mace, you've given me something I haven't had in nearly five years. Comfort and companionship—without strings or expectations. Guess what it all boils down to... the feeling's mutual." Harry was startled as he was pulled in tight, and their lips again locked together.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So... why would the captured wand not work for Mace? He did disarm the headmaster, right? Of course, if you've read the Deathly Hallows, you should know ;-)_

_(1) Taken from Pg. 57, "Order of the Phoenix", Canadian Soft-cover edition._

_(2) Taken from Pg. 159, "Deathly Hallows", Canadian Soft-cover edition._

_(3) Of course, in Canon, he did not know about Cassie's pregnancy. Reminder, folks, this is AU._


	6. Taking Leave of England

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know! Happy birthday tooo mee! Yet, it is me bearing gifts, with another chapter from "Daedric Artefact". Chapter 19 was completed recently, so lots of material to share, but I figure it best to keep it with weekly updates.  
_

_Posted April 26, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 6-**

**TAKING LEAVE OF ENGLAND**

* * *

Harry was awakened the next morning by someone prodding him in his side.

"Master must wake now."

"Wha?"

"Master is wanted in the kitchen by the... Weasley boy," said Kreacher, in a low voice.

"Huh? What?" Harry tried to sit up, confused, but found himself pinned by his muscular friend... friend? What were they now? "Mace?" He poked the guy gently.

"Yeah?" came his sleepy voice. He shifted slightly, although still keeping Harry pinned.

"Need to get up. Bill's back." Harry craned his neck so he faced Kreacher. "Let Bill know we'll be down shortly."

Bill ended up having to wait for twenty minutes, before the pair of them showed themselves. Harry looked very much unkempt, as did his friend, and Bill very quickly put two and two together. They had become more than friends.

"'morning you lot."

"So, what's the verdict?" Harry asked, as they took seats at the kitchen table. Kreacher was already putting out food: cereal, toast, boiled eggs, and pumpkin juice.

"Gringotts can supply the pair of you with proper identification, but it's not cheap. Two hundred galleons per set."

"Shit."

"I did speak with Professor McGonagall, however. If you don't mind paying the school back once you get things sorted."

"I don't want to-"

"Harry, whatever we gotta do, right?" Mace reminded, as he filled his plate. "Got any coffee?"

"Coffee? Unlikely. We've got tea, if you'd like."

"Pass." He looked at Harry, and said, "Whatever help we can get right now... you trust her, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

"It would be an indefinite loan anyway, Harry," Bill reminded, as he also took a seat. "There's a lot of us who are behind you a hundred percent."

"Fine. See to it, then. What about airline tickets?"

"Those, not so bad. About a hundred and fifty galleons each. I've got a contact in Toronto, a Wizarding barrister. She'll meet you guys at the airport. I just need your okay."

"All right. Set it up then."

"Master should still have access to the Black vault," said Kreacher.

"But without a key-" said Harry, but the elf vanished with a crack. He returned it seemed only an instant later, bringing with him a small golden key, much like Harry's.

"That's brilliant, Kreacher! Bill, take Kreacher back to Gringotts. Pull out whatever you need to settle things up. And I'll need five hundred to settle up with Fred and George—no, make that six. Only fair."

"You'll probably want some of it converted as well."

"Fifty thousand in whatever currency I would need." Mace arched an eyebrow. Whoever his friend... boyfriend? Was, he was obviously very wealthy. Harry, naturally, caught the look. "The Black family was very wealthy. A couple million Galleons easily, quite likely much more. I'll have to get some sort of statement eventually, but right now, we just need to get things in order so we can leave the country."

"If you're magical... bury your name, Harry. Everyone's looking for Harry Potter now. You need to shed that altogether."

Bill gave Mace a pointed look but nodded in agreement. The guy was absolutely right.

"Black. I'll go by Black. Evan James Black."

"Where do you get that from?" Mace questioned.

"James is my middle name. Evans was my mum's last name before she married my dad, right? And Black, of course... Sirius. Perhaps... a bit of a tribute to my parents and my godfather."

"Still a bit close. Besides, I got dibs on James," Mace smirked.

"Right. Jason, then. Evan Jason Black. But I go by Jason," Harry smirked right back.

"If that's settled, we'll be off to Gringotts," said Bill. Kreacher was already offering a hand to the redhead. They vanished with a _crack_.

"Bloody hell... that just made things infinitely easier. The Black fortune, at my disposal. There's nothing I can't do financially. Looks like the whiskered wanker forgot something."

It was later in the morning before Bill returned with Kreacher. He found Harry—now calling himself Jason, along with Mace, in the drawing room. Jason was once again teaching his friend how to cast cleaning charms, straightening up the room.

"You both need to see this," said Bill, gravely, pulling out two posters, and restoring them to their original size. Jason read each of them, and frowned. "Of course the old wanker would take exception."

"I did attack him," said Mace, looking at the poster. It had a horrible front and side shot of him on it.

"_WANTED, by the ministry of magic: James Mace."_

_James Mace is wanted for attempted murder. Known to be in the company of Harry Potter, fugitive from Azkaban._"(1)

"How'd he get a picture of me anyway?"

"Some pensieves have special charms on them that allow the memory to be viewed like a projection—although it is somewhat limited that way—he likely then simply took a photograph," Bill explained, "On a brighter note, I've got your documentation, and Muggle airline tickets. Your plane leaves at seven tonight."

"Good. We can put a few thousand miles between us and all this dragon shit. I swear it, I'll crucify the man if I get the opportunity. It just feels... like he's responsible for all of this. Once again, using my friends to get to me!"

"Just concentrate on getting what you need together. And you'll probably want to use the Muggle tube rather than us travelling by floo powder."

"We're pretty much all set, Bill." Harry blew out a breath, then snatched up the two posters, thrusting his wand at them. "_Incendio_." They burst into flames.

"Except the updating of your passport and travel documents." Bill frowned, but he understood Harry's frustration. He set one set of documents on the desk. "Let's get this over with."

"What do I need to do?"

Five minutes later, Harry Potter was known as Jason Black, with the papers to prove it. And, even less time after that, Mace had also obtained a set of documents.

"Canadian I.D.?"

"Yeah. It's easier if your documentation is from the country you're travelling to," said Bill, "That's what my contacts told me. It might be considered cheating and so on, but we're wizards. Just using magic to cut through the... what's the expression?"

"Red tape," Mace guessed.

"That's it. Again, my contact explained more than a few things about Muggle travel and the like."

"Yeah. Going through customs is a bitch at times... even where I come from."

The remainder of the morning and part of the afternoon seemed to crawl by for Harry—or Jason. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could see everything suddenly going south, much like everything else had in his life. The Aurors could show up at any minute, somehow led there by the barmy old headmaster. The wards should keep everyone out, but he still had his doubts. Particularly against the ministry itself. The Fidelius charm was compromised—after all, the person he at the moment viewed as an enemy held its secret.

When it was finally time to leave, both his companions could see he was fit to be tied. He was more than relieved to be leaving the place, after leaving a few instructions for the old house elf. In the very short time they were there, he'd easily earned the respect of Kreacher, and that would be more than useful sometime down the road—and even right then, as he thought it over. The house would be sealed up, leaving the meddling headmaster and his band of roasted turkeys one less place at their disposal.

Stepping outside, Mace actually squinted at the brightness of the early afternoon sun, and fumbled around in his jacket pocket for something.

"Thought I had..." He pulled out a pair of sunglasses, and slipped them on. "God... in my time, it would feel like sunset at best, this time of the day."

"What was it like?" Harry questioned, as they set off for the tube station at Tufnell Park.

"Only place with warmth left was around the equator, pretty much. Everywhere else? You know what an ice age is?"

"Yeah. Everyplace gets really cold."

"That's about it. The sun was dying. The days were dim at best... like I said, even high in the sky it felt more like a sunset. Everything's expensive—most of our food grown inside, right? And a lot of people died in places that couldn't adapt. Poorer countries, shit like that."

"When did it start?"

"You guys would have noticed by now. Global cooling, right." Mace reached up a hand, and scratched the back of his head. "Jesus... this feels good." He shed his jacket, and slung it over his shoulder. "Confuses me though. I mean, it's like I'm in a parallel universe or something."

"A few years ago... the year before fifth year, it was really hot here," said Harry, also shedding his jacket, "Didn't know the meaning of sweat until that summer."

Bill, meanwhile, kept quiet, listening to the pair of them. The two of them seemed to compliment each other rather well. He figured Mace was about twenty-five or so, but it wouldn't matter all that much. Harry was nearly nineteen. No, for whatever reason, the older man most certainly fit, and at this point, he was exactly what Harry—or Jason needed. Without an anchor, he would go off the deep end. Bill was still having enough of a time as it is, coming to grips with the idea of the boy-who-lived being locked away in Azkaban for four years. He would never forgive Dumbledore for doing such a thing, or allowing such a thing to happen. A fifteen-year-old boy! He shouted in his head.

The tube ride to the airport was somewhat uneventful, since the three of them had been in the underground more than their share. Mace, of course, wasn't familiar with the London system, but to him, it was something rather mundane, all considering his experiences.

Heathrow International Airport was, as expected, insanely busy. The three of them pushed their way through the sea of people passing through terminal three, and it took until nearly five o'clock before they located the Air Canada check-in counter.

"'Afternoon, loves. Tickets and documentation, please," said the handling agent, pleasantly.

"Your passport, Jason," Bill reminded, as Mace was already producing his. Jason did the same, and pushed the tickets across the counter. The agent glanced at the passports quickly, then took the tickets. She keyed the relevant information into the computer, the keys making a _clacking_ sound as she did so.

"Do you have any baggage you wish to check?"

"No. Our shit was lost yesterday on the train," Mace lied. The woman frowned a moment, but gave a nod, and keyed more information into the computer. The printer was already spitting out a set of boarding cards. She tore them off and slid them back across the counter, with the remaining copies of the tickets. "Row 65, seats A and B. The security gate is that way, enjoy your flight, boys," she said, giving both of them a warm smile.

"Thank you," said Jason, returning the smile. They left the counter.

At the security gate, the pair finally said good-bye to Bill.

"Just remember, once you meet up with Miss Fraser, send me an owl, and I'll join you guys. I can transfer to the Toronto branch of Gringotts so I can continue to help out."

"Brilliant. Thanks a lot for your help, Bill."

"Don't mention it. Harry—Jason, you have a lot more allies than you think. Mum and dad were more than outraged at what happened, and so were a lot of others. When the time comes, everything will get sorted. Just have a little patience, and perhaps a little faith." He gave Jason's shoulder a strong squeeze. He then looked at Mace. "Look after him, for all of us."

"Count on it."

"All right. Be safe, the both of you." And with that, Bill turned and melted into the crowd.

Passing through the security gate was somewhat of an adventure. All the magical items had notice-me-not charms placed on them, courtesy of Bill, but they did cause the scanning equipment to malfunction, forcing the security officers to scan everyone manually afterword. To Jason, however, it wasn't his problem. It was then a quarter to six.

"Hold on. There's a McDonald's. Airline food can really suck sometimes," said Mace.

"McDonald's? I know it's a fast-food place, but what kind of food do they have?"

Mace looked astonished. "You're fucking with me."

"I swear it, I'm not," Jason scowled.

"That's just... weird. Everyone's eaten at McDonald's sometime in their life."

"No, my relatives are weird," answered Jason, as they walked over to the fast food restaurant.

A few minutes later, they were walking toward the actual gate with two paper bags, the smell of greasy chips escaping from them. Jason had let Mace do all the ordering, since he knew more about Muggle fast food than he did. They picked out a bar-like table with stools close to the window, where outside, they could see a massive aircraft parked at the gate.

"That's probably ours," said Mace, glancing over at the entrance to the gate.

"Merlin, it's enormous."

"We had bigger, um... where I come from. But I think that one's a seven-forty-seven." He thought for a moment, as he pulled the contents out of the bag. "You've really not been on a plane before?"

"Nope. Highest I've been is maybe a couple thousand feet."

"On what?"

"A broom."

"A... oh," Mace mouthed, as it dawned on him. He cracked a grin, and Jason couldn't help but follow. It was rather amusing, after all.

Half-way through their meal on the run, the chimes sounded on the PA system like they'd heard a dozen or so times already. "_Good afternoon, passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for Air Canada flight eight-fifty-nine flying non-stop to Toronto. We are now inviting those passengers with small children..."_

"Not yet," said Mace, as the announcement continued, "We've got ten minutes before they start boarding everyone else."

"You've done this a lot?" asked Jason, as he leaned back in his seat.

"Yeah. During the prep leading up to the mission, it was several times a week. But it's nothing compared to being blasted into space."

Harry gave a nod. "No doubt.

As they cleaned up the remains of their dinner, the chimes on the PA sounded again. "_Good afternoon, passengers. This is the general boarding call for Air Canada flight eight-fifty-nine..._"

"That's us. D'you have your boarding pass?"

"Yeah, right here." Jason dug into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the boarding pass. Others were already queueing up at the gate, where a gate attendant was already inspecting boarding passes and letting the first people through. Jason hefted his backpack onto his shoulders, while Mace grabbed the rubbish, and tossed it into a nearby bin. They joined the queue.

It seemed like an hour later before they actually made it to their seats, as a passenger was denied boarding because he was intoxicated, and made a scene. The last Evan and Mace saw of the guy, he was being led away by four sour-faced airport security officers.

"Always gotta be some shithead," Mace muttered, as he took his seat.

"So it seems," Jason agreed, as he took his seat, and stuffed the backpack under the seat in front of him. He glanced out the window. The sinking sun was being reflected back on the plane from the windows of the departure lounge, making him squint several times.

Passengers continued to make their way down the isles, finding their seats. The seats in front of theirs were finally taken, as were the seats across the isle. "_Good evening_," came a voice over the PA system, "_Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven't already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin. Please take your seat and fasten your seat belt..."_

"Here, it works like this," Mace offered, as Jason fumbled with the belt. "It clicks like so—" he pushed the tab into its mate, making it 'click'. He quickly did the same with his own, as the announcement continued.

"Thanks." Jason blew out a breath. So far, so good, he thought. Their journey through the airport had gone unhindered, and within a matter of minutes, they would be soaring high in the sky, leaving England—and the Wizarding world far behind. A small part of him was questioning the plan. Was this truly the right thing to do? He was the 'chosen one' after all... wasn't he?

NO! The answer came screaming back in his head, almost as if it were shouted with a sonorus charm. They had locked him away in Azkaban prison, based on dodgy evidence, dodgy testimony, and the mechanisms of a bent and twisted individual pretending to have the best interests of the Wizarding world in mind. No, he wouldn't lift a finger to help... at least not now.

He was jarred out of his thoughts as Mace poked him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," answered Evan. Just then, there was a 'ding' over the PA system. _"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Cindy Alliston and I'm your chief flight attendant. On behalf of the entire crew, welcome on board Air Canada flight eight fifty-nine, non-stop service from London to Toronto. Our flight time will be eight hours and five minutes. We will be flying at an altitude of thirty-five thousand feet, and our airspeed will be..."_

"More pre-flight nonsense," said Mace, with a grin. He reached over resting a hand on top of Jason's. "Nervous?"

"No. Just... thinking is all. Y'know, part of me feels guilty, leaving everyone behind."

"Fuck, Jason... they betrayed you. Don't feel bad for them, they sure as hell don't deserve it."

"And that's what I tell myself." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. The plane lurched as they pushed back from the terminal gate. Both of them ignored what seemed like an endless stream of announcements from the flight crew about the safety features of the aircraft, and what to do in an emergency. Mace summed it up quite nicely saying, "Best thing to do, is bend over and kiss your ass good bye."

"The irony of that... I'm fleeing Britain to escape Voldemort, and get killed by a Muggle airplane," Jason whispered.

"I don't get it."

"A wizard... being killed by a Muggle machine." He glanced around for a second, making sure his comments weren't overheard. "Best to keep the conversation about other things. At least until we're off the ground." The aircraft was rolling down the tarmac on its own power now, and there was yet another 'ding' over the PA. "_Flight attendants please take your seats for take-off._"

"Almost there," said Mace, as the two flight attendants in their section moved beyond the curtained partition.

It seemed only a few moments later, when the aircraft swung around one final time, and spooled up its engines. They began to roll down the runway, and Jason could feel the power of the complex machine as it accelerated rapidly. It was tremendous, feeling the power of the aircraft, and then... it was as if everything had fell away. They were already away from the city of London proper, and into the suburbs, including Surrey, and somewhere within, Number four, Privet Drive. He felt no shame, no remorse, as the great bird climbed higher into the sky, far exceeding the maximum height he'd ever flown on his Firebolt.

* * *

"_Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin. However we always recommend to keep your seat belt fastened while you're seated..._"

"Took long enough," Mace muttered, glancing out the window. They were still over land, but it was becoming hard to see as they were passing through a thin cloud layer. The sun had become slightly dimmed because of this, but Mace knew it would only be a matter of time before they were above the clouds altogether, and would be in the sun's company for most of the journey west. Jason, meanwhile, dug out the backpack, and set it on the empty seat beside him. They had lucked out on that one. During his errands to Gringotts, Bill had also picked up a number of text books: first year books for Mace, and sixth year texts for Jason.

"You have your wand?"

"Yeah."

"Trace the wand movements, but don't try anything. The wand motion is really important, see." Harry opened a sixth-year Transfiguration text book, while Mace seemed to choose one covering charms.

Sometime later, a flight attendant pushing a cart stopped by their seats. "Would you gentlemen like something to drink?"

"Um... just a Coke, thanks."

"Same," said Jason. The flight attendant gave a nod, and retrieved two cans of Coke from under the cart, while Mace unlatched the tray from the back of the seat in front of him. Jason watched his action, and did the same, while the flight attendant poured the cans into two glasses.

"We will be serving dinner shortly. We have a choice of either chicken, or fish."

"I'll go with the fish," Mace decided.

"I'll have the chicken, thank you," said Jason.

"I'll be by with your meal shortly then." She was already turning to the seats across the isle.

"Thought you said airplane food was bad," said Jason.

"No, it's n-not bad... it's just not all that great."

"Oh." Jason turned back to his book.

The flight attendant was back, so Jason marked the page and put it away to make room on the tray table. Mace was doing the same, although he simply stuck the wand in the textbook and closed it.

"Which of you wanted the chicken?"

"I did," answered Jason, and the flight attendant retrieved a tray from the cart. It was wrapped with cellophane, and really didn't look all that appetizing.

"And your friend ordered the fish." She retrieved a second tray from the cart, and made to lean over Jason, but he shook his head, and took the tray from her, setting it on the tray in front of Mace. "Thank you."

"Need anything else, just press the call button." She turned to the seat across the isle.

Jason pulled the cellophane wrapping off the tray, and was not surprised to find it nearly cold. He glanced around again, making sure no one was watching, pulled out the wand again, casting a warming charm. Steam instantly rose from the meal.

"What did you do?"

"It's a warming charm. Here." Jason did the same thing to Mace's meal. "Cold fish. That's just evil," he muttered.

"Agreed." Mace made a sour face.

They ate in silence. Mace had been right. Even with the warming charm, the meal still wasn't all that great. It was a good thing they'd grabbed something from the Muggle fast food place before they boarded. There was no way the food on the tray would have sustained them. At least the dessert was all right.

Not long after, the flight attendant returned to collect the trays and rubbish. Mace immediately returned to studying. Jason had to suppress a smirk seeing what he was reading: the levitation charm. He waited until the flight attendant was out of earshot, and said, "Hermione was the first of us to learn that one. Study the pronunciation and the annunciation, both are very important with any spell."

* * *

The sun was still blazing strongly above the few thin clouds, as there was a ding throughout the cabin. Jason noticed his ears had already popped once. "_Ladies and gentlemen, as you have probably already noticed, we have begun our descent. Please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins._"

"This part of the flight's likely gonna be a bit uncomfortable," Mace warned, as he closed the text book. Jason tapped his book with his wand, causing it to shrink again, and passed it over. Both books were stuffed into the backpack, and it was slid under the seat in front of them.

"Why?"

"It's hard on the ears if you're not used to it," was Mace's explanation, as he passed back the textbook and re-secured his seat belt around his waist. The plane had definitely changed orientation, pitching slightly forward. Jason copied his movements, and made sure both trays were closed up. Mace was right, the sensation about the ears was rather uncomfortable.

Evan glanced out the window, and could see they were already over a densely populated area, and it was rather unnerving. If something was to go wrong, it wouldn't just be those on board killed, right?

The scenery changed again, this time a wide-open space, much like back at Heathrow. The ground was coming up fast, and with a slight bump, they made contact. The plane settled level, and there was a tremendous roar, as the plane began a rapid deceleration. Moments later they were making a turn off the runway onto a smaller taxiway. Yet another 'ding' echoed throughout the cabin. "_Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Lester B. Pearson International Airport. Local time is nine-twenty-eight Eastern Daylight Time, and the temperature is twenty-eight degrees Celsius. For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about..._"

Mace gave his head a shake once more, then turned to Jason. "You look a little green."

"I FEEL a little green. I think I'll stick to my Firebolt," said Jason. His stomach was still churning, and his ears were still ringing.

The trip through Customs was rather uneventful, save for the queue, given both passports were Canadian. The middle-aged agent only smiled after comparing the faces in front of her with those inside the passport, and said, "Welcome home."

"Thank you," said Mace, as they received their passports back.

"Is that all the bags you're carrying?"

"Our baggage was lost on the train to London," Mace lied.

"Very well. If I might have a look in your bag, then." She gestured to Jason's backpack.

"Of course." Jason set the backpack on the counter, and the agent opened it. She pulled out a couple of the books, including the one he was reading, gave them a cursory glance, then put them back.

"Both of you are cleared, gentlemen," she said, and waved them through.

"Thanks," said Jason.

As soon as they cleared the security gate, they found someone holding up a sign which read: 'Black & Mace'. He was dark-skinned with hair done up in corn rows, and wore a dark suit. He was easily a head shorter than Jason.

"I guess that's us. I'm Jason... this is Mace."

"Tyrone, but call my Ty," said the guy, with a soft voice, as they shook hands, "Miss Fraser asked me to see to your comfort until tomorrow morning. We'll put you up in a hotel for the night."

"Sounds good to me."

"You have your own money, or do you need anything else?" They were already walking toward an exit.

"No, got it sorted," answered Jason, "We visited the, um-"

"Gringotts," Ty finished.

"Yeah. Wasn't sure if you were one of us or not."

"Safe assumption. It's a pretty mixed bag at the firm, since we do deal with both Wizarding and mundane cases. Law school was brutal, since we have to know the law in both worlds, I'll tell you."

"God, I can imagine. I just hope... the brand of justice being served up over here is not the tripe they're serving in England," said Jason, darkly.

"Wait until morning. Sandra will have more than a few scathing things to say about our counterparts, that's all I'll tell you now—here... we'll duck in here." Ty pulled them into an alcove, out of sight. "Mr. Mace... you use a port key before?"

"Something like, yeah."

"Great. We're gonna be using a port key to get to the Blazing Goblet—it's pub and inn," Ty explained, seeing questioning looks.

"Right... Wizarding community," Jason realized. Ty, meanwhile, had pulled a tennis ball out of his suit pocket. He drew his wand (a dark, short wood which seemed to match its user), and touched it to the object. "_Portus_." The tennis ball quivered for a moment, and shimmered blue, before falling silent. "Okay then. Get a finger on it."

With a whirl of appendages, the three of them were whisked away from Canada's busiest airport, to be deposited in the courtyard of a rather old-looking building. Jason found himself being lifted to his feet, and quickly glanced around. It certainly had a feel much like Diagon Alley did, although somewhat cleaner. Additionally, he spotted a number of electric lights which lit up the area. Didn't magic cause too much interference with electrical things? He filed that question away for later.

"C'mon, this way," said Ty, leading them through a doorway to their left.

Inside, the building most definitely did not look like a Wizarding business. The place was lit entirely by electricity, with soft music coming out of the sound system. There were booths along two of the walls, the bar along one wall, with tables taking up the rest of the space. The place was moderately busy, as it was later in the evening at this point. Harry and Mace were shuffled over to the bar.

"'evening, Chris. Sandra sends her regards, needs these two set up for the night."

"One room or two?" asked the bartender. She was rather skinny, with a pale complexion and light brown hair that had been pulled back in a pony tail. Jason noticed she wore the same white shirt as the others working the pub.

"Just one," said Jason, with an honest smile.

"I'll give you room three seventeen. Would either of you like something sent up from the kitchen?" Jason looked at Mace, and seeing him shake his head, he answered, "No, we're fine."

"Sandra will pay the charges once we get these two sorted into some place more suitable."

"'s all right, Ty, I know she's good for it. You two just got in the country, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that," answered Jason.

"You look familiar..."

"Top secret, Chrissie. It's why these two are seeing Sandra in the morning. She's been wanting to take a healthy swipe at a few people across the Atlantic. Mr. Black here's just served them all up on a silver platter."

"Is that so?" Chris reached under the bar and pulled up two pint-glasses. "A drink then, on the house."

"Uh... thanks," said Jason, hesitantly, as the bartender filled the glasses with a honey-coloured beverage.

"Sure."

"I'd join you, but... drinking and Apparating, not a good thing. Might splinch myself."

"Knowing you do that anyway, Ty," said Chris, then stuck her tongue out at the short wizard.

"Oh you're funny," Ty scowled, and pulled up a seat beside the fugitives. "Since I can't have one of those... pour me a Coke." He pulled few sickles out of his suit pocket, and lay them on the counter. To Mace, they looked like quarters.

The offered drink turned into three, and by the time Ty got them up to the hotel room on the third floor, Jason was in no shape to do anything coherently.

"Your friend's a cheap drunk," Ty said, as they helped Jason undress and get into bed.

"Didn't know," said Mace, with a shrug, and then grinned. "A bit funny though. Shit... it's been a while since I had a good drink."

"Right." Ty gave Mace a nod, then said, "If you need anything... you've dealt with a house elf before?"

"Yeah. Harry—Jason has one... bonded, I think he said. And he's got one who's a friend."

"Yes, right. Kreacher, if I remember Sandra saying. Here, you guys can call on Mellie. She works for the firm and Sandra's already filled her in. And here. One of our cards." Ty reached in his pocket, and pulled out a business card.

_Fraser, Leyhey, & Graham  
Barristers & Solicitors  
Tel. 416-555-8917  
Floo: Fraser, Leyhey, and Graham Law Office  
No case is too big or too small_

He dug in his suit pocket again, pulling out a second tennis ball. "This is another port key. It's timed to go off at eight thirty tomorrow morning, and it'll bring you both to the firm."

"And we just stick a finger on it."

"Yep. Easy as pie." Ty glanced at his watch. "Okay. I really gotta get home. Have a good night, both of you." He vanished with a noisy _pop_.

Mace only stood there, mouth open about to ask another question. It was becoming annoying, how they were just able to 'pop away'. He sighed, and shed his shirt, still buzzing quite nicely from the little pick-me-up in the pub. And Harry—Jason... was adorable as a drunk. He was then passed out on the bed, sprawled out and taking up three quarters of it.

Even though his mind was still swimming with the day's events, Mace quickly joined him. It had been less than a week, and his world had been turned upside down—perhaps for the better. All he knew was the simple truth... wherever Jason went, he would follow.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: I hope the name change won't get too confusing, but in this case, Mace is right._

_(1) Those of you reading this on FF . Net... See my Tumblr account for an actual image of this poster... canuck-slasher is my user name there._


	7. Asylum and Collapse

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted May 3, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 7-**

**ASYLUM AND COLLAPSE**

* * *

At precisely eight-thirty the following morning, the pair of them were delivered by port key to the law offices of Fraser, Leyhey, & Graham. They were met by Ty, who had obviously been waiting for them. The room they had arrived in looked like an entry way of sorts, with a fireplace to one wall, with a set of doors to the left of it. On the opposite wall, was a set of doors, with couches on either side. The firm's name was stenciled on the doors.

"Get lots of rest?"

"Yeah, peachy," Jason muttered. The pair of them looked somewhat out of sorts, as though they'd just gotten out of bed. "Mace practically dragged me out of bed... Kreacher?"

_POP_. "Yes, master Harry?"

"You know where to get some pepper-up potions, and some anti-hangover remedies?"

"Right away, master Harry." He popped away. Mace shook his head, rather surprised. "You can call him even from here?"

"It's magic. He's bound to me, right, so he can always hear me, I guess. Never really thought of it."

"You could've just called on Mellie, she could've got those things for you," Ty reminded. There was another pop, and the old house elf had returned, bringing several potions.

"Pepper-up potions and anti-hangover remedies for master Harry and his friend."

"Thank you, Kreacher. Has anyone come by the house since we've been gone?" Jason questioned, accepting the potions. He passed over a set to Mace, who quickly downed the both of them, making a scowl at the nasty taste.

"The old fool was by at least twice, he was. Most displeased he is unable to enter the property."

"Good," Jason grinned, as he unstoppered the first potion. He consumed it, gagging at the awful taste. "We'll possibly be needing to see the locket this morning. Not just now, but later on."

"Then Kreacher is returning to cleaning." He popped away.

"Hope he actually cleans things this time," Jason muttered, as he consumed the second of the two potions. He instantly felt better, and looking at his friend, he could tell he was feeling better too.

"If you guys will follow me," said Ty, leading them through the double doors.

Inside, they found a large reception desk, with two secretaries. One was on the phone, while the other, who was closer, was working on a computer. Jason again arched an eyebrow. Magic and electronics? Bad combination, wasn't that right?

"C'mon... this way." Ty was again leading them off down a corridor, with a number of doors going off on each side. They stopped at a set of double doors, which opened to reveal a conference room with a large table at its centre.

"If you two will make yourselves comfortable, I'll retrieve Miss Fraser." The short wizard took off.

"Shit. Hope she doesn't mind us eating breakfast while we have a chat... I'm starving."

"Uh... agreed." Mace, too, realized he was hungry.

"I'll get Kreacher to bring us breakfast, then."

* * *

When Bill Weasley had mentioned the situation concerning Harry Potter, Sandra Fraser had jumped at the opportunity. A high-profile attorney in both the magical and mundane world, she had cut her teeth on cases that 'didn't smell right'. The Potter case reeked of injustice, but being a Canadian attorney, it was outside of her jurisdiction. At least, until Bill had explained the present set of circumstances. Now, with the young man on Canadian soil, she could wade into the fray, and perhaps tear a strip off of a few holier-than-thou individuals.

She realized it would likely be a difficult fight, particularly if it were to be waged from across the pond, but given the possible sentiments on the part of the young man, certain measures could be taken. She had already prepared a number of forms, each of them requiring only the boy's signature. It would just be a matter of getting him to agree to their contents.

As Ty led her into the conference room, she was slightly surprised, seeing the two young men already seated, obviously having breakfast. Both of them looked up, seeing her arrival.

"Forgive us for just..." said one.

"Didn't have time for breakfast," the other finished.

"No, that's perfectly fine," said Sandra.

"Guys. Senior partner Sandra Fraser. Sandra, this is Jason Black, a.k.a. Harry Potter, and James Mace."

"Welcome," said Sandra, as she greeted them warmly, "No trouble on the flight over?"

"No, ma'am," answered Jason, as he sat back down.

"We can wait until you're finished."

"No, we're just about done anyway."

"Sorry we took so long. Sandra was locating a few other pieces of paperwork before we begin," Ty explained.

"Yes, a few rather important pieces of paperwork, actually. Mr. Mace. Where are you from?"

"Upstate New York, originally."

"American. Okay." Sandra took a seat across from them, and started filling in another set of forms.

"How did you and Mr. Potter—or shall I say now, Mr. Black—meet?"

"Complicated."

"When... well... someone dropped a..."

"Port key, wasn't it?" Mace filled in, and Jason nodded, then continued, "It somehow took me to his... his ship. I saved his life, and... a few days later, the port key brought us back here... into Dumbledore's office, ironically."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm only hearing a portion of it?"

"Like he said, the details are complicated," answered Jason, "Forgive us if we don't fully trust you right now."

"Fair enough. Do understand, the both of you, in order for us to help you, you need to be completely honest with us."

"All you need to know about Mace... he's one of a very few people I trust implicitly right now. God, I think I can count on one hand the number of people who fit that description."

"Very well." Sandra drew her wand, and gestured at a cabinet at the other side of the room. The doors opened on their own, and a silvery bowl floated out of it, toward them. "You've used a pensieve before?"

"Yeah. Four years ago," Jason answered.

"Perfect. I think then, the first thing I need to see, is your view of events, shortly before your arrest, and your trial four years ago."

"Sure." Harry drew his curved wand, and touched it to his temple, drawing out the appropriate memories, and as the pensieve came to rest in front of him, he dropped the silvery strand into it, then pushed it across the table so Sandra could reach it.

"Is it okay for Ty to have a look as well?"

"Yeah, of course."

Jason blew out a breath, as the two attorneys stuck a finger in the bowl, and were frozen in place. If the meddling old man wasn't convinced... no, this was different. The old man was not interested in fair justice for Jason. He never had been. These people were different. They would fight for him. Sure, it would likely cost a pile of money, but just the same, they would fight for him. That was what mattered.

He was pulled out of his thoughts, as Kreacher appeared again, removing the remains of their hastily ordered breakfast. He vanished with another noisy crack.

"You looked lost there a minute."

"Just thinking."

"Wondering if you can trust them?"

"No. Just hoping what I'm showing them won't just be dismissed, like Dumbledore did. I don't think that'll happen, but it still sits there in the back of my mind, y'know what I mean?"

"If they won't help, we'll keep looking 'till someone will, right?"

"I can't keep running forever. I have a fortune to play with, but it won't last forever. And given the Ministry here likely already knows to be on the lookout for me and such."

"Whatever you wanna do, I have your back."

"I know."

A few minutes later, the attorneys withdrew from the pensive, with Sandra looking fit to be tied. She instantly softened, seeing her newest client and his... friend. They were embracing tightly, and... snogging. She cleared her throat, and the pair instantly separated.

"S-s-sorry," Jason stammered, while the pair of them now resembled lobsters.

"As much as I would say carry on, by all means, we do have lots to cover, it seems," answered Sandra, giving the pair a small smile. She re-took her seat, while Ty again left the room.

"Well?" Jason prompted.

"As hazy as the last memory is, we can likely get the ICW to consider it," said Sandra, "Although equally disturbing, all of the testimony given by your supporters was declared irrelevant and inadmissible. I still question how your Wizengamot still has their magic, after such a travesty. And for the record, you were never questioned while under Veritaserum?"

"No, not at all."

"What about him escaping from Azkaban?" Mace threw in.

"If he's declared innocent of the original charges, it won't matter," answered Sandra, "If only to slightly reduce the compensation he'll earn. False imprisonment is a serious affair in the Wizarding world. That useless windbag of a Minister should know that." Sandra scowled. "When this is brought before the International court, there will be far-reaching fallout in your Ministry, Mr. Black."

"Good. Maybe that's exactly what they need. So you'll help us, then?"

"Mr. Black, it's cases like yours that have made my career. You know what the term Pro Bono means?" At Jason's shake of the head, she continued, "It means, in a nutshell, work taken voluntarily or without payment. Your case, although I could make a lot of money from you, I don't think it would be fair, given you've been dealt a bad hand as it is."

"Miss Fraser, I can certainly afford it-" Jason interrupted, but Sandra shook her head. "No, I won't accept one penny—or one knut from you."

"All right, all right." Jason held up his hands in mock surrender. "So what's next?"

"Is this the first time you've sought legal council?"

"Yeah, it is."

"You've never had legal representation, or in lieu of that, someone to advocate on your behalf?"

"I thought that's what Dumbledore was supposed to do," said Jason, sadly.

"No, that would have been a horrendous conflict of interest," answered Sandra, "Albus Dumbledore holds two powerful positions... one in your government as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, as well as being the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. He should not be advocating the interests of any single individual."

"Well, our government seems to have different rules," said Jason, with a scowl.

"Nonetheless, there are international standards your government has to follow. He should know better at any rate." She slid a form across the table. "You'll need to fill that out—" Sandra produced a pen from her pocket, and lay it on top of the form, "That establishes an agreement which will allow us to represent you in your legal matters, until such a time as you release us. As far as the payment schedule goes, you can ignore it, since we're offering our services for free."

Jason quickly reviewed the form. It was pretty simple, with just some basic information. He filled it using his real name, and used Number twelve, Grimmauld Place as his place of residence. In the place asking for names of parents or guardians, he filled in the Dursleys. He dated and signed it, then slid the completed form across the table.

"Wonderful. I think the best place to start, then, would be for you to give us a little background on yourself. What sort of difficulties you've had, that sort of thing. The newspapers have certainly had a bit to say about it, but being an attorney, I know what the press says about something is usually nowhere close to what truly happened."

"Isn't that the truth," said Jason. He leaned back in his chair, and thought where to begin. Right at the beginning. That would be the best place. Back as far as he could remember. Sandra and Ty both opened up notebooks, with dicta-quills, as Jason began to detail his life, as far back as he could remember: at the age of three.

He left nothing out, for the first time feeling safe enough to reveal what his home life had truly been like before he discovered he was a wizard: the days on end locked in his cupboard without food; the birthdays and Christmases he had to watch Dudley get showered with gifts, while he got nothing; the endless bullying and 'Harry hunting' at the hands of his cousin. There were more than a few places he had to stop, finding solace in the comfort of his boyfriend.

Mace somehow knew Jason's childhood was not a good one, but the information coming to light proved it beyond a doubt. Of course, Jason had shared a few dark memories, but nothing like the open book being presented now. The nasty look the muscular man was giving at this point gave the others a pretty good idea of where his head was at. If the Dursleys were to somehow appear in the room, they would be rather dead, rather quickly.

"Harry... Jason... Why didn't you say something?" Ty asked at one point.

"Because I thought I deserved it," answered Jason, in a small voice, "Even after I came to Hogwarts, I just figured that sort of thing was normal."

"That's bullshit, Jason," Mace snarled, "Jesus Christ, your relatives were monsters."

"We have some contacts in the British Crown Prosecution Service," said Ty.

"It's a little—"

"Too late? It's never too late, Jason," said Sandra, "If anything it would give you satisfaction to see them punished, would it not? Isn't that one of the reasons you're here? To have some answers, and possibly some closure?"

"I guess."

"Let us worry about the details," said Ty, "We'll likely pull in a few interns to help out. For now, continue with your story."

Jason moved on to his learning he was a wizard, and his first year at Hogwarts. He described the immense joy he'd felt, stepping into Diagon Alley for the first time, making his first friend (Hagrid), getting his holly wand, seeing Hogwarts for the first time. He talked about his first real friends, Ron and Hermione (although his features darkened as he talked about them), and the first encounter with Voldemort at the end of the school year.

The two years thereafter, as he talked about them, seemed to get darker, more sinister. His words were being written down verbatim by the pair of dicta-quills, as a running transcript, and equally important, as a set of notes for the attorneys to work from. Sandra and Ty were making their own notes of things they would want to ask later on, of course.

He talked about his fourth year, and the Tri-wizard Tournament... becoming an unwilling fourth participant... his face seemed to light up as he talked about Cedric. Mace, of course, already knew a little bit about Jason's first love, naturally. The discussion once again darkened, of course, and Jason could not finish. He simply extracted the memory and deposited it in the pensieve.

"I... I can't do it. I can't..."

"It's okay, Jason." Sandra and Ty again froze, as they were transported into the pensieve.

"Why don't you share the rest of your memories that way?" Mace suggested.

"'cause I want you to know... to understand as well."

"I could just go in with them—"

"No. It would mean me coming too, and honestly... just pulling them out is traumatic enough. And without me there, things could get confusing. Showing them this way is confusing enough, and you're still new at all this shit." Jason found himself pulled into an embrace for a second time that morning. It didn't chase his fears away, but it certainly helped him calm somewhat. Cedric had been able to do that as well.

Several minutes later, both Sandra and Ty returned from the pensieve. Sandra looked positively ill, and had to call on Mellie to bring several calming draughts before they could continue. Jason, meanwhile, leaned forward, and collected the memory, much as he'd done earlier. "Not even being imprisoned matches that memory," he spoke, letting out a visual shudder. He slumped back into Mace's arms. "The world went to hell when this happened."

He finally moved on to cover the Dementor attack on his cousin and the subsequent trial in front of the entire Wizengamot—lots of additional notes were made there, along with another trip into the pensieve. This time, all of them viewed it, as Jason wanted Mace to understand what the guardians of Azkaban truly looked like, and just how dangerous they were.

That led into Jason's fifth year at Hogwarts, and the mention of Umbridge's detentions got real attention, when Jason described the 'special' quill.

"Dear God, she was using a blood quill," said Sandra, a nasty look crossing her face, "Those things have been banned by the ICW for the past two hundred years."

"Well, Umbridge had no problem using it," said Jason, absently messaging the back of his scarred hand.

"Were you the only one she used it on?"

"No, she used it on a lot of students."

"We'll want to get in contact with some of the those people. The more witnesses we have, the stronger the case."

"I'm not really worried about Umbridge. I will deal with her all in good time, the useless toad."

"No, Jason. It's better to do it through the proper channels," Ty objected, "That's what we're here for. It also goes to further your argument against Dumbledore and others who want to control you."

"I guess—aaaaaah!" Jason almost lost consciousness as his scar flared with white-hot pain.

"Jason?"

The scene faded, to be replaced by a room he'd already seen many times during his incarceration. A long table took up the room, with an enormous fireplace off to one side. He sat at the head of the table, with his closest followers seated along its length.

"The Ministry is virtually crippled, my lord," spoke Avery, from five seats away, "We have people in position and we just need your word."

"Likewise, our people are ready in the alley, should you wish to create a diversion."

Harry thought for a moment. "Very good, Avery. Let us then proceed. Tonight, at nightfall."

The world again fell away, and Jason found himself looking at Mace's concerned face.

"You okay?"

"B-b-bad vision. I... I need to make a floo call right away."

"What for?" questioned Sandra.

"Voldemort is gonna take the Ministry."

"This way." Ty indicated Jason follow him. Naturally, Sandra and Mace quickly followed along. Back out the corridor, and to the entry hall they had been brought to by port key.

"Floo powder is there, of course." Ty indicated the small pot hanging by the side of it.

"International connections work I hope?"

"For a call, yes."

"Good. Can only pray he's there." He grabbed a pinch of floo powder, and tossed it into the grate. "Hogwarts, Headmaster's office!" and plunged his face into the green flames.

He was in luck, as the headmaster was seated at his desk.

"Professor?"

"Harry, my boy..." Dumbledore was across the room rather quickly for his old age.

"Professor. No time to chat. Voldemort... he's gonna take the Ministry tonight, at nightfall."

"How did you become aware of this?" The question was asked with suspicion.

"My scar, sir. Just... got a nasty vision. The Ministry and Diagon Alley, tonight. He's attacking the alley as a diversion."

"Harry... as much as-"

"Professor! Please, you have to trust me!" Harry suddenly felt strange, as though—he yanked his face out of the fire, and was just in time to see a hand snatching around briefly in the flames, as they returned to their usual orange glow.

"Shit, that was close."

"They're likely monitoring the floo network, Jason. C'mon, let's get back to the conference room," said Sandra.

"Jason... why do you care though?" Mace posed the question.

"If Voldemort takes the Ministry, I won't have any hope of getting my name cleared, for starters. And that would be the least of our worries. As much as I hate to admit it, the Order of the Phoenix is probably the only thing that can actually prevent him from taking over."

Getting back to the conference room, Jason found a calming draught waiting for him at his seat, which he rapidly consumed. The vision, coupled with having to deal with Dumbledore, and the close call in the floo was more than enough excitement. Sandra glanced up at the clock.

"How about we take a break for lunch. The pair of you are set up at the Blazing Goblet?"

"Yeah. Thanks again," said Jason.

"No worries. Though we will sort out something a little more permanent in the coming days."

"What sort of food do they have there, by the way?"

"Usual pub fare... fish and chips are always a favourite of course," said Ty.

"And that's your, um, Wizarding community, right?"

"Yeah. Maybe the same size as Diagon Alley," said Sandra.

"A wand, remember?" Mace reminded him.

"Right. Mace's wand—well, he defeated someone for it, but it doesn't seem to work for him."

"You'll want O'Toole's. We can stop in there either before or after lunch."

"Let's get lunch first then," Jason decided, feeling his stomach let out some sort of protest.

* * *

O'Toole's Wand Shop was about double the size of Ollivander's back in Diagon Alley. The sign on the door read:

_Stephen O'Toole  
Maker of fine wands and channeling devices  
Est. 1876_

The shop itself was, much like Ollivander's, lined with what seemed like hundreds of tiny boxes. A difference, however, was in the number of taller sticks which were kept behind a long glass case along a side wall. A display case contained a few wands, along with a flood of rings.

"Rings?" Jason arched an eyebrow.

"Rings, staves, and wands," spoke a stranger, appearing in a doorway leading to the back of the shop, "We also enchant amulets, bracers, and a number of other oddities as a focus, if you might be interested." Jason guessed the man to be in his thirties, slightly taller than he was, with a slim build. Like most of the witches and wizards he saw thus far, he wore Muggle clothing—this time charcoal grey dress pants, and a plain white dress shirt. His hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and a pair of glasses were stuffed in one of the shirt pockets.

"Never heard of enchanting a ring rather than a wand," said Jason.

"Well, Ollivander was never really into anything other than wands, now, was he? You got your wand from him when you were eleven, correct?"

"Yes sir," answered Jason. The man hummed, then gave Jason a sharp look. "Good grief! Mr. Potter?"

"Not anymore. Jason Black, sir."

"Well then! What brings you to my shop—unless..." He frowned a moment.

"I've already got a wand, actually, sir. One of a few things someone left conveniently in my cell. The reason I'm here, and not still locked up in Azkaban." He drew the wand, and allowed the wandmaker to handle it.

"Hmm... I detect oak, eleven inches even, dragon heartstring... an unnatural curve to it—rigid. A most powerful wand, Mr. Black. You've not worked long with it, I take it?"

"No, sir."

"Whoever gave it to you most certainly knew what they were doing. Go ahead and give it a wave for me." Jason accepted it back, and gave it a wave. This time, it reacted much more favourably, sending a colourful shower of red sparks out of the end of it.

"That's odd. When I first picked it up and did that, it only gave me a few sparks out of the end of it."

"You have to force it into submission, Mr. Black. That wand expects a powerful wizard to wield it."

"Jason... maybe that's why my wand doesn't work for me," Mace said.

"Yeah... the reason we're here. Mace, um—"

"Just came into his magical ability. Most interesting. You cast without a wand?"

"You mean this." Mace's right hand instantly glowed, a white-blue orb swirling in his palm.

"You been able to practice any other sort of magic yet?"

"No, sir."

"And what sort of wand are you using?"

Harry opened up his backpack, and pulled out the wand they had captured from Dumbledore, and held it out to Mr. O'toole.

"You're shitting me." His eyes seemed to get as big as golf balls. He pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket, slipped them on, and drew his wand. "Hold it out... perfect." He began casting several detection spells on it. "Where did you get this?"

"Dumbledore was it?" said Mace, and at Jason's nod, he continued, "We landed in his office. He went to draw on us, and I nailed him with this-" The glowing orb momentarily reappeared in his hand.

"The wand went flying, and I collected it," Jason finished.

"You cleanly disarmed him of _this_ wand."

"Jason's house elf friend took the fucker off to the infirmary, I think," said Mace, with a scowl. "Thing is, it doesn't work worth a damn for me."

"No, and it wouldn't," said Mr. O'toole, with a shake of his head, "Have any of you heard of the Deathly Hallows?" At their shaking heads, he continued, "The _Elder Wand_, also known as the _Wand of Destiny_, the _Deathstick_, the _Eldruhn Wand_, and a few others... _this_ wand. Whatever you do, do not tell others about it. You see, this wand has a history painted in blood."

"Still doesn't explain why it won't work for me."

"Simple. This wand—" Mr. O'toole again gestured to the captured wand, "—knows one thing, and one thing only: power. Mr. Mace, you've only recently gained your magical ability. You have the magical core of one just starting their magical education, and therefore nowhere near the power required to properly use this wand. You might be its owner, but at this point, you haven't earned its allegiance."

"But he will someday, right?" Jason questioned.

"It really depends on how strong he becomes, magically. For now I would suggest keeping this hidden, and as I said, tell no one you have it. Unless you wish to become yet another victim in its bloody history."

"Great. One more thing to cause trouble. We could just snap it."

"No. Just stick it back in the backpack," said Mace. He turned back to Mr. O'toole. "I need something that'll work for me. Borrowing Jason's is a pain in the ass."

"As it would be. Let's see then." The guy was obviously still very much distracted by the legendary item in their possession, but forced himself to focus. A magical tape appeared out of nowhere, and started measuring the muscular man from every conceivable angle. Harry had to smirk, seeing the confusion on his boyfriend's face. "Same thing happened to me in Ollivander's shop," he grinned.

"Which hand do you write with?"

"Right handed," answered Mace, still distracted by the magical tape, as it carried on of its own accord.

"And when's your birthday? Just the month and day?"

"June thirteenth."

"Enough," said Mr. O'toole, and the tape rolled itself up and vanished. He gestured with his wand at several locations along the back wall of the shop, summoning nearly a dozen boxes. All of them were long and slender, and they neatly stacked themselves on the counter in front of them. He opened the top box, and pulled out the wand which lay inside. "Oak, twelve and three quarter inches, swishy."

Mace barely gripped the wand, when Mr. O'toole snatched it back. "No... that won't do." he put the wand back in its box, and opened up the next one. "Another oak, twelve inches even, supple."

This time, Mace actually waved the wand, and was mortified, as a yellow blast of magic bloomed from its tip, to impact with the ceiling. It ricocheted back from whence it came, forcing everyone to duck.

"No, definitely not," said Mr. O'toole, as Mace handed the wand back. He looked over at Jason, who was doubled over.

"Not funny."

"Sure it was!" Jason breathed, as Mr. O'toole pulled out another wand.

"Everything all right?" Ty had seen the commotion, and stepped into the shop.

"Yeah, sure," Mace muttered, as he tried another wand. This time, no reaction whatsoever. "Fuck, this one feels dead to me. At least Jason's I can actually feel it."

"Good, then. You know what to look for."

Naturally, it was an hour later, and they were still there. A hefty pile of boxes was mounting on the counter, as the wandmaker continued to pull others from the inventory.

"Maybe it's not the right wood," Ty suggested.

Mr. O'toole sent a withering look at Ty. "Who's the wandmaker, Mr. Waterhouse?"

"Sorry."

"However..." He gestured again with his wand, pulling down another stack of boxes. He flipped off the cover from one of them. "Let's try one of cypress." He simply passed the box over.

"Cypress? Never heard of a wand being made of Cypress."

"Rare. And difficult to match."

The wand inside the box was nearly white, it was so light, with an intricate weave pattern at the base of it, just above the handle. Mace was instantly drawn to it, and the instant flesh came in contact with the wood, he felt a tremendous surge of warm energy travel through him from head to toe. A smile touched his lips as he drew the wand fully from the box, and gripped it comfortably in his hand.

"Well then! About time. Give it a wave if you will." Mace obliged, and a strong bloom of red sparks radiated from its tip.

"Much better feel than the... the other wand," said Mace, again giving his new wand the once-over.

Mr. O'toole frowned. "Most unusual. Cypress, twelve and an eighth inches, dragon heartstring, un—unyielding."

"Unyielding?" Ty arched an eyebrow.

"You will find this wand challenging to master. Perhaps nearly as difficult as the wand you have captured, Mr. Mace. However, once you have mastered a particular spell, you will find it to be most powerful."

"Cast a Lumos charm," Jason suggested.

"_Lumos_." The wand tip lit up with a light almost painfully bright. "_Nox_. Didn't feel too difficult."

"It will be when you try learning something new. You will need some patience, but it will be worth it in the end. If perhaps, to help you become strong enough to master the second wand you now own."

"Right, then. How much do we you you?"

"Eight galleons, Mr. Black." Jason dug into his pockets and found his money pouch, and counted out eight gold coins. If anything, Jason was more than anxious to get out of the shop, with the knowledge he now had.

The conference room, seemed to be a little busier when they returned. A pair of interns had joined Sandra at the table, which was now littered with papers. A set of dicta-quills were working off to the side of the room, duplicating the notes that had already been taken. Off on another wall, sat a small table containing a tray of sweets, coffee, tea, and a row of potions. Pepper-up potions, Jason realized. He stopped short. Two more individuals sat at the opposite end of the table, one of them wearing the crimson robes of the Auror office. The crest, however, was rather different, dominated with a maple leaf... at least that's what it looked like.

"Mr. Black. We're ready to start up again?"

"Y-yes ma'am." He cast a nervous look toward the Auror.

"Mr. Black, this is Samantha Thompson, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and head Auror Jessup Morgan. They're here to take a statement and be present for several pieces of paperwork to be filed." The pair stood up and came around the table, but rather than draw wands, Samantha simply offered a hand. "Mr. Potter. Or is it Mr. Black, now?"

"Mr. Black, ma'am." he reciprocated, and they shook hands. "I'm not under arrest?"

"No. Your advocate has certainly filled me in on the details, and I can honestly say I'm more than appalled at my English counterpart for allowing such a snow job to take place in the first place."

"However, we do need some paperwork filled out, and an explanation as to how you managed to enter the country. We've certainly been on the lookout for you."

"We came over the Muggle way," Jason explained, as everyone again took seats."

"Quite clever of you. I assume you had some help in doing so."

"Yeah, a few friends."

"A connection of mine back in England contacted me and asked if I was willing to help out," said Sandra, "It was my suggestion he use Muggle means so he would get into contact with us first before we contacted the Ministry. I trust you understand the deception."

"In context, I do have to agree. Any other way, the pair of you would have spent at least a night in the Ministry's holding cells," Samantha agreed, turning back to Jason, "Given the circumstances surrounding your case, it's more than understandable the steps you've taken. As to your friend here-"

"James Mace, ma'am."

"He's also wanted by the English Ministry, but I gather it is related to your own case, Mr. Black?"

"It is. He simply protected the both of us against the headmaster. We would likely have been stunned, obliviated, and carted off to the Ministry."

"I promised Jason, I've got his back, and I mean it," said Mace, with a scowl.

"Very well." Samantha drew her wand, and gestured at a spot in front of her. A stack of forms appeared. "Mr. Black, nee Potter. You are seeking political asylum within Canada's borders, on the grounds that you fear for your safety and possibly your life, should you be returned there. Is that a fair statement?"

Jason blinked, startled at the statement. However, it did make sense. "It is a fair statement, yes."

"That statement, would it also apply to you, Mr. Mace?"

"Um-"

"Say yes, Mace," said Jason.

"Yes."

"Then so it is recorded, and so mote it be." She gestured again with her wand, causing the stack of papers to roll themselves up and vanish with a slight pop. "There will, naturally be a hearing to determine the validity of your claims, but for now, welcome to Canada."

"Thank you, ma'am." Jason inclined his head, as his opinion of his new company just went up a few notches.

"Should the hearing go in your favour, we will then be able to make a petition to the ICW's appellate court, with regards to your murder conviction."

"ICW? What's that?" questioned Mace.

"The International Confederation of Wizards," Samantha answered, "You're familiar with the United Nations in the Muggle world?" At Mace's nod, she continued, "They oversee international issues. There are many nations and so on, but the important thing here is the international court."

"I don't need to tell the both of you, the appeal will possibly mean recalling key witnesses, and will require the use of Veritaserum on each of them," said Sandra.

"I'll gladly submit to that myself, should it help clear my name. I swear on everything holy, I did not murder a classmate and someone I saw as a friend. Colin was annoying sometimes, but... he was in the D.A., even... and so was his brother!" He blew out a breath to calm himself. "I can also show who actually killed him. I mean, it's a memory of a memory, but... I know for certain it was Belletrix Lestrange. She used polyjuice potion. Y'know... I don't think they even checked my wand. Dumbledore just snapped it there and then in his office. He just stood there, with that 'I'm so disappointed in you' look on his face... meanwhile a convicted, escaped Death Eater was roaming the halls of the school!"

"She's on our watch list here, as are a good number of Voldemort's inner circle. And, unlike your Ministry, we take the threat he poses very seriously, never mind what most of our community think of him," said Samantha, darkly.

"Do you get... Death Eaters over here?"

"They don't last very long. Oh believe me, we do have a part of our society here which believe blood means something. As luck has it, they are a very small minority. You'll find, Mr. Black, we're much more forward-thinking here than what you are used to."

"So I noticed." Jason gestured about the room. "One of my former friends was always on about Muggle electronic things not working well around magic."

"Aye, and it is still true," said Jessup, finally daring to enter the conversation. His accent was rather amusing, somewhat a cross between Irish, Scottish, and... thick English, maybe? It was bizarre, but somehow, Jason thought he could listen to him talk all day. "There's a limit to how much you can pull off, really, before you start causing problems, right."(1)

"Right," Jason grinned, forcing himself back to the present.

"Mr. Black, bast case scenario. What do you want to happen?" Samantha posed the question.

"Best case scenario? Cleared of all charges, complete vindication. Dumbledore, Fudge, and a list of others answer for this... nightmare I've lived for four years. Mace and I find some place to make some sort of quiet life together. Yeah, that's about it."

"Near future, you may get at least part of your wish," said Susan, "The appellate court can throw out the charges, if they feel the evidence is persuasive enough. In doing that, the English Ministry would not be able to re-file against you regarding that incident.

"The lesser possibility, is that they will declare the outcome of the trial null and void, but force the Ministry to try you again, this time with ICW observers present. The ICW does not normally hold trials itself, but they can most certainly involve themselves if need be. That scenario, of course, is very rarely used, given member nations don't wish to intrude on the autonomy of others." She paused, then continued, "They could also deny your request, should they feel the evidence you present is not compelling—and lastly, they could, worst case scenario, decide additional charges need to be filed."

"And?"

"Your case, I have a strong belief you will get the top choice."

"Yes, even from my vantage point, with the very few pieces of information your solicitor has shared with me, this is a snow job right out of the gate," said Samantha, grimly, "Part of me is itching for me to make a floo call to my English counterpart. Given the private nature of this meeting, I'll naturally refrain from doing so."

"Much appreciated." Jason did his best not to scowl.

"If we could get back to your walking us through things," Ty suggested.

"Kreacher," Jason called, and the elf appeared. "Master Harry call for Kreacher?"

"Could you please fetch us maybe five or six calming draughts?"

"Of course, Master Harry," said Kreacher, bowing low. He popped away.

"Still can't convince him to call me Jason."

"You'll need to do that if you plan on keeping your cover," said Ty, "You'll likely have to give him a direct order."

"I hate doing that. He and I still don't get on all that well... particularly considering..." The elf returned, bringing with him a sack which clinked when he set it on the conference table.

"Is there anything else, Master Harry?"

"Yes, there is," said Jason, kneeling so he was eye-level with the old house elf. "Kreacher. I hate to, but I must order you to from this point on only call me Jason Black. I want the world to forget about Harry Potter, and if this is what it takes, than so be it."

Kreacher regarded the dark-haired man who was his master, and again bowed low. "Master orders and Kreacher obeys. Of course, Master Jason."

"Thank you, Kreacher." The elf vanished, this time with a slightly less noisy _crack_. "Merlin, he actually looked _pleased_ at me, if that's possible."

"Maybe you earned a bit more of his respect," said Ty, with a shrug, "I know house elves are a bit strange."

"Preaching to the choir, mate. Bloody hell, I know all about that. I've not introduced you lot to Dobby yet."

"He'd make Kreacher look sane, I think," said Mace, shaking his head. Jason had gotten back into his seat, and was putting the bottles of calming draught in front of him. Mace inwardly winced. If he needed all of those... the story he was about to tell was not going to be pretty. Not in the least.

"Miss Fraser, I'll probably need your pensieve again."

"Ty... you mind? And I insist you call me Sandra, Mr. Black."

"Only if you call me Jason." He cleared his throat. "I'll pick up, then, just after Christmas four years ago. Just after Belletrix Lestrange and nine other Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban..."

By supper time, Jason wasn't the only one needing a calming draught. Mace was yet again floored by the person he had fallen in love with. The man had suffered many times that of the average person, and was yet sane. He had suffered the loss of someone who should have filled the role of parent and guardian, but had no chance to grieve, having been framed for murder only days following. He had then been betrayed by everyone he called a friend, bar a few. He had endured four years in a place that was far worse than any Muggle prison. The question again: how was he still sane?

It wasn't Mace who posed this question, however. Morgan, who had remained relatively quiet up to this point, at at last asked, "Good God, b'y, how is it you're not barking mad?"

"The dream of revenge. The day I'm able to stand up and speak for myself, and tell them, 'you were wrong!'. 'You were all wrong, and now you have to lay in the bed you made'. See, there's one more thing that I didn't tell you, but I think it needs to be said. Voldemort will try and kill me one way or another, right?" He drew out another memory from his temple, and placed it in the pensieve. Sandra again tapped it with her wand, and a shimmering image of Sybill Trelawney took form over it, speaking in the harsh, hoarse tones Harry had heard her use before.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"(2)_

There were certainly looks of confusion from the two attorneys, and the two Aurors, but a look at Mace, and Jason knew he understood what it meant.

"You have to kill him or he'll kill you." was his blunt declaration, at which Jason slowly nodded, saying, "It's him or me."

"And they help you by framing you for murder, and locking you up in Azkaban... bright bunch of people over there," Mace snorted, "They're all fucking stupid."

"Summed it up quite nicely," Jason agreed, as he collected the memory from the pensieve, "Quite honestly, I have no interest saving any of their arses. Before, my trust, my loyalty, my friendship... was given freely. Now? Never again. Those things have all been shattered rather spectacularly, and they expect me to just ignore it and bend over backwards when my... time in the sun arrives?" He let out a hollow laugh. "Boy, are they all in for a rude awakening."

"You would damn us all to that monster?" Morgan looked alarmed.

"If Voldemort keeps his business within England's borders, I won't raise a finger. He comes here, that's a different story. He fucks with the few friends I do still have, again, that's a different story."

"Some might believe you have an obligation, Mr. Black," said Samantha, and was rewarded with a withering gaze from the dark-haired man.

"I owe them NOTHING!" The table actually rattled and the lights flickered, with the resulting small burst of magical energy. Mace shivered, feeling the angry taint from it, but he reached over and put a hand on Jason's shoulder in support. The magical outburst seemed to fizzle out. "Thanks."

"For now we'll just focus on getting a hearing in front of the ICW."

"That'll probably take some time," said Samantha, "A hearing before our court regarding your application for political asylum will likely happen within days, on the other hand. We'll send notification through your attorney here."

"Sounds good to me."

"It is getting to be late. Why don't we call it a day, and pick up again in the morning. Now I should mention, I do have to be in court for one o'clock tomorrow, so we'll only be able to meet for part of the day," said Sandra.

"It'll give me a chance then to settle a few other issues in the mean time."

After having something to eat in the pub, the pair returned to their room. It was still early in the evening, but at this point, Jason had only one thing on his mind: to forget about the terrible memories he'd been forced to wade through earlier in the day. His entire young life had been laid bare in front of people he still thought of as strangers. He felt unclean, and at this point, truly the only thing keeping him grounded was the man who had practically became his shadow. The pair of them had become joined at the hip, so it seemed, much like it had been four years prior, when he still called Ron and Hermione his best friends.

It was to this end the dam holding back all of the raw emotions finally broke, and the young wizard at last collapsed under the tidal wave of emotions, deep sobs wracking his body. He cried over the loss of his friends through betrayal, the loss of his godfather, the loss of his childhood... the loss of his innocence. No matter how he faced it, he would always be viewed with suspicion should he ever return to England.

Mace once again felt like a fish out of water. His love had crashed and burned in seconds, now a ball of nerves, slumped into him. He somewhat understood now, what rested on Jason's shoulders, but was at a loss over what to do. He simply held the young wizard tightly, knowing at this point, he had reached rock bottom.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So... a bit of an explanation for Mace's wand. I found this somewhere: "_Cypress: associated with nobility, these wands find matches in brave people and also bold and self-sacrificing people._" So, cypress it is. If you read Mace's character summary from 'Sunshine' (it's out there, look it up), the wand wood most certainly fits. Additionally, this from the Harry Potter Wiki: "Cypress is associated with valour. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death."_

_(1) So... what part of Canada might Mr. Thompson be from, hmmm?_

_(2) Taken from p.741, "Order of the Phoenix", Canadian soft-cover edition._


	8. Legal Arguments 1

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted May 10, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 8-**

**LEGAL ARGUMENTS, I**

* * *

_June 29, 2000  
Canadian Ministry of Magic,  
Toronto, ON_

The court room was about the same size as the room in which Harry had been tried for the murder of Colin Creevey four years prior. However, the décor was rather different, taking on the feeling of a Muggle court rather than a magical one. In fact, save for the magical instruments and the like, the Ministry itself was like any other place in the Muggle world. Canadian Wizarding society had most definitely not kept themselves isolated, much like was the case in England.

The bench held a number of individuals, all wearing Muggle attire, rather than robes. If there was one other thing Jason had picked up in the Wizarding community there, the wearing of robes was more the exception, rather than the expectation. The judge's bench was still vacant, but a court scribe was already present, sitting in his own box below the bench. Along with several Wizarding instruments, there was also a computer.

Two large tables separated the two sides of a case, in this case, he, Harry Potter, versus the very government he was petitioning. However, it looked like this would be a rather easy victory, since Samantha Thomas and several Aurors stood at the table across from them. At Jason's table, it was him, Mace, Sandra, and Ty, along with two other assistants.

At precisely nine o'clock, a side door swung open, and an Auror stepped out of it. "All rise, her honour Patricia Watson now presiding. This June session of the Wizarding Court of Canada now in session." A short witch with brown hair and a dark complexion stepped up and took a seat at her bench. Unlike the others, she did wear a robe, with a red sash draped across the front of it. She glanced down at something in front of her.

"Please be seated." There was a rustling of clothing and items, as the sparse number in the court room took their seats. "Auror?"

"Ministry v Black nee Potter, and Mace, petition for political asylum," the Auror announced, passing up another folder. The judge accepted it. She leafed through its contents, then looked at Samantha. "Madam Thompson?"

Samantha stood up. "Under normal circumstances, our office would most certainly be moving to quash these sort of manoeuvres. Although it is fair to say sometimes they _are_ most necessary, most of the time they are not, as in most cases, the applicant is only using this device to escape due punishment in the country they are fleeing.

"That said, I am most certainly somewhat versed in the matter concerning Mr. Black, nee Potter's legal situation, and I find it all most disturbing. Setting aside my thoughts and views on what our compatriots across the pond call justice, I think it would be a further travesty should we just follow along with them, condemning this young man across the isle from me without first taking a very long, hard look at the evidence they used against him. I have nothing further to say, other than, Mr. Black, nee Potter, has the support of the DMLE here." She retook her seat.

"Madam Fraser?"

Sandra stood up. "Given the positive support of those who would normally be an adversary in an application such as this, it does make things much easier for me, considering she touched on the most important points I was about to make.

"I think it should be emphasized, however, that my client has been abused and used as a scapegoat, in the most horrible way imaginable. No individual should ever have their rights trampled on the way he has. Without some sort of protection, he will continue to suffer at the hands of those who wish to control or use him for their own personal gain. Thank you." Sandra also sat down.

"Very well," said the judge, once again giving a glance to one of the documents that had been passed up to her, "It is indeed rather rare, an applicant having the support of the Ministry. Therefore, it does make this rather cut and dry. Applicants, if you will please rise."

"Jason..." said Sandra. The party stood up.

"Regarding the applications presented me by Mr. Jason Black, nee Harry Potter, and James Mace. I find both are in order, with the circumstances and reasoning more than applicable. The applications, are therefore granted. To that extent, I issue a court injunction against the warrants out for the arrest of Mr. Mace and Mr. Potter, with regards to Canadian Ministry jurisdiction." She smacked a round block with a knocker of some sort.

"All parties please rise."

"Merlin... that was insanely fast," said Jason, as they walked back through the Ministry to use the public fireplace.

"With Samantha's support, it was cut and dry, like the judge said," said Sandra, "I'm still waiting to hear back from the ICW, but the paperwork for your appeal has been filed."

"If it goes anything like what I know about appeals and shit like that, it's probably gonna take a while," said Mace.

"Not necessarily. The ICW doesn't handle many appeals. Generally a conviction is based on solid evidence. You have to realize, we do have methods of determining if someone's guilty or not, unlike the Muggle world. Cases like Jason's don't normally happen."

Getting back to the office, the group found Bill waiting for them in the conference room. Harry momentarily hugged the oldest Weasley boy.

"Well? How'd it go?"

"Political asylum here," answered Jason.

"Well done. Dumbledore's in a twist these days, I can tell you. Not the most pleasant man to be around right now. I'd swear he's aged a decade over the past few days."

"Maybe he'll pack it in, be one less worry," Jason scowled. He'd just got the words out of his mouth, when Fawkes appeared in a brilliant flash of golden flames. Mace stood rooted to the floor, stunned by the arrival.

"Hello, Fawkes," Jason greeted, as the bird fluttered over to land on his shoulder. He grew worried. "Did something happen?"

The bird only let out a musical string of notes, then nipped him on the ear, making Jason yelp in pain. Another string of notes, and Jason felt a tremendous wave of magical power wash over him. Those watching saw bird and man surrounded momentarily by a golden cage. Mace had by now seen the memory of Voldemort's return, and was instantly reminded of the same cage which surrounded Jason and Voldemort when their wands connected.

The fear was for nought, however, as it rapidly dispersed.

"Fawkes? What the hell?" Jason was alarmed as he reached up and touched this ear. His finger came away bloody. The bird had drawn blood!

Bill understood at once, however. "Harry—Jason. Fawkes... just bonded with you."

"He WHAT?" Jason blurted, while Sandra and Ty looked somewhere between astonished, and frightened.

"But why? What's it mean?" Mace was confused, and still rather startled, from the bird's rather fiery arrival.

"It means... Dumbledore is going dark," answered Bill, his features seeming to darken, "I... need to make a fire call."

"Ty... after he's done, make a fire call to Samantha, let her know what's happened as well. A phoenix abandoning their bonded... yikes. Terrible omen."

"Great. Just great. As if things can't get more complicated." Jason flopped into one of the seats, while Fawkes fluttered over to the seat next to it. Jason looked about ready to bang his head on the table out of frustration. Seeing several calming draughts at the centre of the table, he snatched one, and consumed its contents. Otherwise, he would be shouting at people, which in this case would do no one any good. Mace, of course, quickly claimed the vacant seat to his right, and offered further support, getting him grounded again.

"Better now?"

"Thanks." Jason thought for a moment, then asked, "Gotta wonder what was the straw that broke the camel's back? What's the old man plotting now?"

the answer came rather quickly, in the form of another poster issued by the English Ministry.

"UNDESIRABLE NO. 1: HARRY POTTER" it proclaimed, with another unflattering photo of Jason taking up most of the space. A ten-thousand galleon reward was being offered for his capture.

"Can he sue them?" Mace dared ask.

"Not directly, no. The English Wizarding community has no set of laws which would allow for such a thing. Over here, however... Jason... if you were to take out Canadian citizenship, then we could do something," said Sandra.

"If..." Jason thought for a moment. "Why not? How quickly can it be done?"

"It may take a few weeks through magical channels. Normally it takes years in the Muggle world, of course. It will also depend on the appeal. But I could certainly get things rolling. Also, you should bear in mind, you would only be able to take legal action with regards to anything which happens from here on out. You could not go after them for anything retroactive, if that makes sense."

"Yeah, I think so." In the back of his mind, he envisioned Rita Skeeter being hauled into court to answer for her venomous and poisonous articles she was known to write... it certainly would take nothing to egg her on, after all. Mace actually shivered again, seeing that creepy smile cross Jason's face.

Seeing Bill return, Ty left the room.

"I spoke with Professor McGonagall, she knows what's happened. She's quite alarmed, I'll say that much," said Bill, taking a vacant seat. "How have things been since you got here, Jason?"

"Still working on finding a more permanent place to call home. The Blazing Goblet's been nice, but it would be better if we have some place of our own."

"And given you're obviously planning on staying here, we could set you up with a real estate agent. Any thoughts where you might like to settle?" Sandra asked.

"Not really. I think, we need someplace that's private. Lots of space."

"You're probably needing a rural setting then. A dormant farm."

"She means a place that used to be a farm," Mace clarified.

"Right. That would be brilliant. Put up some strong wards, maybe. Muggle repelling wards and so on. I'd like to be able to fly around on my broom and not worry about Muggles seeing me. It would be nice to also have room in case my friends want to come visit. It's a smaller list than it used to be, but having a nice big house would be excellent, I think."

"You're thinking something like the Burrow," Bill guessed.

"Finding a place like that would be perfect, yeah," Jason agreed.

* * *

_July, 2000_

The property was enormous. Situated on Regional Road twenty-four, not far east of a small village called Port Stanley, on Lake Erie's north shore, it featured a large farmhouse, and several metal barns. The property was made up of an even split between farm land and woods, ending with a bluff overlooking the lake. It was nothing like the Burrow, but it had everything Jason had in mind. And, anything that was missing could certainly be gotten or added. A quick question or two to his mate, and it was a done deal. That had been well over a week ago.

Jason had been a series of meetings with the goblins, the result being the bank was then settling any affairs concerning the Black estate, and number twelve, Grimmauld Place was being put on the market. A team of warders and curse breakers were combing through the place, cleaning out any residual magic, since Jason decided it would be sold on the Muggle market. Naturally, that also meant a rather uncomfortable conversation with Kreacher, convincing the elf to help out. After all, there were things worth keeping.

In any event, word reached the Order of the Phoenix, as to exactly what Harry was up to—It would always be Harry to Dumbledore. Therefore, on July 19, he was again before the Wizengamot.

"There is a matter in regards to Mr. Potter, which I failed to take into account immediately following his incarceration," said the old wizard.

"Get on with it, Dumbledore, we do have more important issues requiring attention," snapped an older wizard from several rows up.

"Patience my dear boy, this will only take a few moments. While we took steps to ensure he would not have access to his estate in the unlikely event he should somehow escape from Azkaban, we did not, however, take into account his inheritance, namely, the Black estate, as willed to him by the now deceased Sirius Black. The estate is worth far more than the Potter estate is, and the monies within it could be used more productively."

"You're seeking to have the estate frozen."

"Exactly, Madam Longbottom. With Mr. Potter—"

"Mr. Black, headmaster," Longbottom corrected sharply, "Escaped criminal or not, he has legally changed his name."

"Mr. Potter—" Dumbledore persisted, "—Now has access to a vault with a value close to twenty-five million galleons. It is incomprehensible as to what sort of mischief he may unleash, whether he be working for Voldemort or not."

"Our magical brethren across the Atlantic seem to think otherwise, Professor," said Madam Bones, with a frown.

"It is not their opinion which counts in this July body, though, is it?" Madam Umbridge simpered, "I for once do agree with the esteemed professor with regards to Mr. Potter."

"If we put it to a vote, then? All in favour?"

Two days later, while Jason was still settling into his new home, a barn owl swooped in through the open kitchen window, to drop a letter on the table, and then immediately left the way it came in. Jason picked it up, recognizing the Gringotts seal, and opened it.

_Dear Mr. Black,_

_We regret to inform you that certain aspects of the Black estate have been frozen by the English Wizengamot, by order of its head. This includes the property in London, which you were intending to put up for sale. You have our sincerest apologies for this inconvenience._

_However, we are happy to inform you this does not extend to items and vaults you have already transferred here to the Toronto branch of Gringotts, as the English Wizengamot has no jurisdiction over their contents or their owners._

_Once again, with deepest regret,_

_Balwark, Branch manager,  
Gringotts, Toronto Branch_

"That meddling goat fucker!" Jason swore, slamming the letter down on the table.

"What'd he do this time?" Mace dared ask, looking up from his breakfast.

"Had the Black estate frozen. Glad you suggested us moving the vault here... swear I'm gonna strangle the man with his own beard..." At that moment, there were two distinct pops. Kreacher appeared beside the table, near Jason, while the second pop came from outside.

"Master Jason... Kreacher can no longer enter the ancestral Black home." The elf looked out of sorts.

"I know, Kreacher—" there was a knock at the back door.

"Got it." Mace got up to answer it, while Jason said, "Gringotts sent me a notice. The Wizengamot froze the Black estate... save for the vault which we moved."

"Jason... I see you got the notice," said Bill, entering the kitchen.

"Y'know, you do have walk-in privileges, you didn't have to knock," said Jason.

"What if it wasn't me? Even here, you guys will have to take precautions. A war's coming whether we like it or not. And something else..." Bill rummaged through his pockets, and pulled out a rather worn journal, along with a tattered text book. "Professor Snape sends these along without compliments."

"Why would—" Jason picked up the worn journal. "_Occlumency and Other Mind Arts_," he read. He let out a snort. "Should've had this at the beginning." He sighed. "Better late than never. And—_Advanced Potion-Making_, by Libatius Borage... looks like it's seen better days," Jason snorted, glancing at the text book, almost afraid to open the cover with the fear it would fall apart.

"Snape tells me it was his copy and you may find the annotations useful." Jason dared open it, and sure enough, it was marked up with messy handwriting that was nearly impossible to read. "Jason. You really do need to learn Occlumency. I'd suggest mentioning this to Sandra, see if she might have any leads here."

"Yeah. Agreed. Preferably someone who doesn't loathe my existence. All I got out of Occlumency lessons from Professor Snape was a splitting headache." He stacked the books together.

"Right. Enough of that nonsense. How are you two adjusting?" Bill took a seat at the table.

"The first night was rough, I'll say that," said Mace, "Jason didn't sleep at all, I don't think... kept waking me up."

"Wasn't used to it being so quiet. I think you could hear a pin drop from a hundred yards out here. So every little bump... of course, just as I was getting to sleep, right? Yeah, Mace described it pretty well... a rough night." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "I think the first few nights were the toughest. Not having a crowd of people around me... or Dementors patrolling the corridors outside of my cell. Even on... well, where I met Mace... there was still ambient noise around us, and then... at the Blazing Goblet... constantly noise and so on.

"I guess, though, I'm getting used to it. I don't feel so stressed out about things, either."

"Maybe the country life suits you, Jason."

"Who would've thought?" Jason grinned, and had the last forkful of scrambled eggs off his plate. Kreacher eagerly snatched the empty plate, and sent it to the sink, where it started to wash itself.

"And what about you, Mace?" Bill gestured to the man who had most definitely claimed Jason's heart.

"As long as Jason's happy, so am I. That's all that matters right now."

"Good, good." Bill seemed to think on something, then said, "How is it you met anyway? Jason, you keep alluding to something that worked as a port key."

"Can we tell him?" Jason glanced at Mace.

"If you trust him..."

"He wouldn't know where we lived if I didn't, Mace." He leaned back in his chair, but then sat up. "Maybe we should view this in a pensieve, rather than try and explain it."

"Pensieves are expensive, Jason."

Jason let out a snort. "So what? I saw what's in my vault. I strongly doubt the cost of a pensieve will empty my vault any time soon."

It was mid-afternoon before the three of them returned to the house courtesy of Fawkes. Although they had certainly caused quite a stir in Toronto's Wizarding shopping district the first time they'd done so, it was now expected and accepted. If anything, it set other people at ease, even though they recognized the two young wizards in the bird's company. The English witches and wizards had to have it wrong, a phoenix would never associate with a known murderer, right?

"Y'know, we should get a camera and take a picture of the pair of us with Fawkes. Seriously, no phoenix would associate with someone who's going dark, right?"

"I can see if I can get a Wizarding camera," Bill offered.

"Great. I'll pay you back for it." Jason set the box containing the pensieve they'd just bought on the coffee table in the living room. "Let's sit... great. Now. Mace, you see how we pulled memories?"

"Sort of."

"Take out your wand."

Mace did so. "Now put it to your right temple, like so." Jason had already drawn his own wand, and demonstrated. "Now, focus on the things you want us to see. Maybe just one memory for now, so you get the hang of it. Tell me when you're ready."

"Okay."

"Now, with just that memory, pull the tip of your wand away—exactly!" A silvery strand of what looked like hair had come away from Mace's temple, to dangle on the end of his wand. Bill tapped the box with his wand, instantly revealing the contents: a clay bowl with a number of strange little pictures drawn around its edge. Within it, was the same shimmering liquid Mace had seen before in Dumbledore's pensieve. Mace already knew what to do, and dropped the hair-like strand into the liquid, causing it to shimmer momentarily.

"What are we about to see?"

"It's how Jason found me, or about a minute before. Bill... I just want Jason to see it for now. He sort of already knows, shit like that."

"Okay, very well."

"Coming with?"

"Right." Both Jason and Mace stuck a finger in the shimmering liquid, and froze there.

They unfroze about forty-five seconds after, and Jason seized his mate tightly, and they locked lips. Whatever Mace had just showed him, it was upsetting.

"You need a calming draught?" Bill asked. Getting no answer from the pair, he called for Kreacher, and made the request. The pair finally separated, but Jason was actually shaking from what he'd seen.

"Jason. Look at me." Jason looked his mate in the eyes, his own glossy with un-shed tears. "You saved my ass, that's all that's important.. right?"

"I... still..."

"It's done. Just let it go. Now how do I put this back in my head?"

"Kreacher is bringing a calming draught."

"Th...thank you, Kreacher." Jason accepted the offered bottle, and consumed its contents, and took a breath, allowing it to do its job. The man he now loved more than he'd ever loved Cedric... could have died before they even met. In his mind he made a silent prayer to whatever deity had sent him hurtling across time and space.

Finally calm enough, he helped Mace put the memory back where it belonged. "Okay. Now that I'm feeling calm enough. I'll show this from my end. From me discovering the, um, package in my cell... to us being dropped in Dumbledore's office," said Jason, as he pulled a silvery strand from his temple. He dropped it in the pensieve, and this time the three of them entered it.

This time, it was over an hour before they returned from the pensieve. Mace and Jason both slumped back into the couch, and were more than happy to melt into each other's company. Seeing their predicament as an outsider, it was more than alarming.

Equally so, Bill was flooded with a range of emotions, as he processed what he'd just seen. Perhaps, if anything good came out of it, was the fact Jason now had a strong individual who would be his anchor, someone he could lean on for support when things got difficult. Of course, Bill knew about Cedric, and back then, as now, saw exactly the same thing play out—save for the horrible ending of things which saw Cedric murdered by the Dark Lord.

He had to smirk to himself, thinking of the ferocious tongue-lashing Jason had served Dumbledore with when they finally let him back into his office. The guy was becoming a formidable wizard, one who would more than likely shape the future of the Wizarding world—whether he wanted to or not. Even then, he was already making a lot of waves, causing friction between two Wizarding communities.

Jason was broken out of his stupor, as another owl swooped into the room from the kitchen, to drop a letter into his lap, a letter into Mace's lap, turn around, and fly back out from whence it came. This letter had a seal Jason had never seen before, and by the looks of it, it was important. He broke the seal, and opened it.

_Mr. Jason Black, also known as Harry Potter  
Black residence,  
Port Stanley Ontario, Canada_

_Dear Mr. Black/Potter_

_This letter is in response to the writ of certiorari filed on your behalf by your solicitor earlier this month. We have reviewed the application, and have decided your case does fit the provisions of the writ._

_Therefore, please be advised that you are required to appear before the International Confederation of Wizards Appellate Division, at 9 am on Monday, July 31, 2000. At that time, you and your solicitor will be permitted to address the Appellate Division with regards to your murder conviction in 1996. Expect to present pensieve testimony, and Veritaserum may be administered._

_Hope you are well,_

_Rosemary Vandermill,  
International Confederation of Wizards,  
Appellate Division,  
Geneva, Switzerland_

"Well, what is it?" Bill questioned.

"Good news, I think. Here." He passed the letter over. He glanced over at Mace. "What's yours?"

"Your lawyer's pretty slick. Here." Jason took the parchment and scanned it, then grinned. "Yeah, have to agree with that one. Like I said though. Dumbledore likes to blow things out of proportion when it comes to me... or people who get in his way when it comes to me. Mace, you were in the way as far as he was concerned. Having you carted off to Azkaban was his way of getting you out of the way."

"I'll return the favour one day."

"Get in line. You can have a go at him once I'm done with him," Jason muttered. He giggled, though, as the thought of his rather muscular boyfriend strangling the life out of the old codger popped into his head. Mace could easily guess what Jason was thinking, and cracked a smile.

"Right. Best get in contact with Sandra, let her know about this... though she likely already knows," said Bill.

"Yeah, agreed." And with that, the thoughts about pursuing the strange port key-like device were abandoned.

* * *

_July 31, 2000_

_Head office of the International Confederation of Wizards  
Geneva, Switzerland_

It was Jason's birthday, but there was no time to celebrate. There were much bigger fish to fry at this point, and the only reference to it was the awesome wake-up call he'd received from Mace. It nearly made them late, as the timid house-elf assigned to look after them had to prod them at least six times before they finally climbed out of bed.

After a rushed shower (which they had no issues sharing), a quick breakfast, and a rather hasty ride in a car supplied by the ICW, they arrived at the massive building which served as the headquarters for the magical version of the United Nations. They found Sandra and Ty waiting for them in the lobby, and from there, they took an elevator up to the seventeenth floor. Jason noted there was no press contingent present. In a way it was a relief. Naturally, the Ministry would have loads to say no matter what the outcome of the proceeding.

"The pair of you are all set I trust?"

"Ready as I ever will be," said Jason. He and Mace had visited a high-end tailor in Toronto, and now dressed in a pair of expensive suits. Jason wore a pin on the lapel of his jacket, which, if anyone got a look at, was actually the Black crest. It was one of the things Kreacher had been able to locate in the vault after it had been moved to Toronto.

"I should warn you. Dumbledore is here, and I believe so is Fudge," said Sandra.

"Oh, this will be brilliant," said Jason, a nasty smile coming across his face, "Too bad we couldn't lace the both of them with Veritaserum. Let's see what dirty little secrets they'll share."

"Come on, this way..." Sandra led the group through a set of large doors, into a room which looked similar to court room ten of the British Ministry—the same room in which he'd been tried for Colin's murder... the same room he'd been tried for underaged magic.

There were at least ten witches and wizards all sitting on the upper bench, with one single wizard sitting separate from the others. He looked to be about as old as Dumbledore was, with dark skin and hair that was done in an intricate braid. He peered out over the room through a pair of square glasses, something like he remembered McGonagall wearing. Jason dared look around, and to his relief, found the room empty, other than the judges—or those at least, he figured were judges.

He frowned, seeing a group of people at one of the tables. They included Dumbledore, Fudge, and a woman he loathed set eyes on ever again: Delores Umbridge. He at this point did his best to ignore them, as his group gathered at the opposing table.

"Counsellor, you were almost late," said the judge, in a soft, but clear voice.

"Forgive the delay, my lord. We are ready to proceed," said Sandra, giving a slight bow of the head to the panel of judges.

"Very well." The overseeing judge gave a nod to a fair-skinned witch seated in a box below. The box was nearly overflowing with stacks of parchment that threatened to bury her in an avalanche. The witch seemed to have it in hand, however, picking up a single paper from the top of one of the piles.

"Harry Potter and British Ministry of Magic, my lords, concerning a writ of certiorari. Harry Potter is contesting his 1996 conviction for murder, my lords." She gestured with her wand, sending the paper up to the overseeing judge. He glanced it over, then gave a nod to Fudge.

"My Lords," he began, standing, "It is somewhat of an outrage to be before this body, given this matter has already been settled without question before our own Wizengamot. Surely, my lords, if the cries of an unstable criminal such as Potter is, what is preventing others who are far more dangerous from making similar, outlandish claims, swamping this very body with numerous, but untrue motions and appeals, all of them wasting your valuable time.

"Witnesses were brought before our body and questioned thoroughly before their testimony was weighed yay or nay. We have documented statements from the Aurors who discovered Mr. Potter, standing over the body of his victim, wand still in hand. This matter is closed, my lords, I ask you all do the Ministry due, and not reopen this matter."

Fudge returned to his seat, and the judge nodded to Sandra. She was already half out of her seat. Jason, meanwhile, sat in his own seat, fuming. The man had gone 'round the twist, that was all there was to it! Only a strong squeeze on the shoulder from his mate kept him from yelling across the isle.

"My lords," Sandra began, "It is true, Mr. Black, nee Potter, was found standing over the body of the deceased. However, it is not for the reasons believed. Mr. Creevey was a classmate and a friend of Mr. Black. To find a friend murdered in a place believed to be safe? My client was devastated. Considering he was already grieving over the loss of someone he saw as a father figure, this only added to the grief. My client was in a state of shock when he was found. If it would please the court, I would like to present my first pensieve memory which will demonstrate my client's behaviour up to and immediately following discovery."

"I must object!" Fudge cried out at once, "We do not permit such things to be admitted into evidence!"

"Overruled," spoke a witch on the left side of the overseeing judge, "Whether or not it is policy in your court is irrelevant here. Proceed, Miss Fraser." The overseeing judge, meanwhile, nodded to another wizard sitting in a separate box opposite the court scribe. He produced a similar clay bowl Harry had bought not long before, and conjured a small table with his wand. The bowl was placed on it, while Sandra produced the vial containing the memory. Jason had provided several of them so they would be prepared.

"Whose memory are we about to see?" Enquired the court scribe.

"My client's," answered Sandra, as she moved back to the table, and picked up a page of parchment. "This is a signed, sworn oath that the contents are accurate." The wizard who produced the pensieve collected the form, and passed it over to the court scribe.

"Proceed, Miss Fraser." Jason smirked, as he could see Fudge practically squirming in his seat. 'Afraid of the truth, you worthless wanker?' he thought.

The memory was played similar to a hologram, so all the parties could see it. The judges and court officials remained unmoved by the contents, while Jason shifted in his seat, uncomfortable in having such a difficult moment in his life aired in public again.

Fudge, meanwhile, turned white. Surely, they haven't... they boy was guilty! They were all sure of it! They'd caught him just there! There it was, the Aurors snatching him up and hauling him bodily away... but... no. The reaction from the boy was completely wrong. It wasn't the cries of guilt. The boy was in shock.

NO. Fudge shook his head. If he admitted to possibly locking up the boy-who-lived on false charges, it would be the end of him! The lifespan of his career after that would likely be measured in minutes! Never admit you were wrong! Not in front of the enemy.

The memory finished, and as Sandra collected it from the stone bowl, she asked, "Minister Fudge, after seeing that memory, care to tell us your opinion of the matter?"

"I decline to answer, counsellor, as in my opinion, memories are not admissible in a trial."

"I watched you, Fudge. You turned as white as the shirt I'm wearing," Jason muttered.

"Order," said a wizard on the far right of the panel, "You will have your turn, Mr. Potter."

"Sorry," said Jason.

"For the record, my client no longer uses the name Potter. He has legally changed it to Jason Black."

"So noted," said the court scribe, a dicta-quill scratching away on a lengthy roll of parchment beside her.

"However, I re-iterate the observation of my client, and pose a question. What prompted such a reaction, Minister Fudge? Did you see something in this memory that perhaps frightened you?"

"N-n-n-yes," Fudge squeaked. Try as he may, he was unable to resist the subtle truth charm placed over the room.

"And what exactly is it you saw which frightened you, Minister?"

"The boy's reaction... it was not of guilt."

"You would be right. It was not of guilt, Minister. You do recall, my client had just lost his godfather only days before the incident in question, am I right?"

"I was aware, yes."

"Are you aware of a medical condition called shock?"

"Can't say I am and either way, this is all irrelevant," Fudge huffed.

"Shock is a type of medical condition, usually induced by physical or emotional trauma, among other things. Shallow breathing, a weak heart rate and pulse, clammy skin, and may be weak and confused.

"It's those last items I point out to you. My client had already suffered a terrible emotional trauma, witnessing the death of his godfather, someone he saw as a parent. To come upon the dead body of one of his classmates, it was one stress too many."

"If I might ask Mr. Black, then. Is this how you felt, as described by your counsel?" questioned a witch on the right side of the panel.

"Yes my lady," said Jason, "I was numb. I just... stood there, frozen. Another classmate and friend... two years back to back was what kept running through my head... and Sirius... if that wasn't bad enough. I don't think I really realized what was happening, until they had me chained to the chair in front of the Wizengamot."

"And they never bothered to question you with Veritaserum?" the witch asked.

"No, my lady."

"Most disturbing." The wizards and witches among the panel muttered amongst themselves, but all were nodding. Sandra at this point knew she had this one in the bag. The nasty looks they were casting toward the party from the British Ministry spoke volumes. The witch, however, continued. "If we move on to your trial. Were you permitted to testify freely?"

"No, my lady."

"How many witnesses were called?" That question directed at the Ministry.

"Thirty-five, my lady," answered Dumbledore this time. He'd remained silent up to this point, although he kept casting the 'I'm disappointed in you' looks over at Jason. Jason had long become immune to those by now.

"How many of those were for the defence?"

"Officially, none of them," Dumbledore answered. More muttering and nasty looks from the panel. No, the Ministry was not making any friends here.

"A better question, was Mr. Black granted any sort of legal counsel?"

"Most unfortunate..." Fudge began, but...

"Silence!" The overseeing judge snapped, casting a withering look at the Ministry envoy. "We have heard enough." A silencing ward snapped up, and the panel huddled together.

Sandra gave Jason a warm smile. "We have them. I'll give them..." she looked at her watch, "All of two minutes."

"Harry, my boy..." Jason found Dumbledore had dared cross the isle.

Jason's eyes narrowed to form ice-chips. "How dare you. Afraid of what will happen with the outcome? I would, if I were you."

"Hey Jason... I could show him the, um... spell I learned again," Mace smirked, the glowing orb appearing in his hand. Dumbledore's mask actually slipped for a moment. For some reason, the fair-skinned, muscular man with short-cropped hair made him uncomfortable. The magic he wielded was nothing he'd ever heard of, and quite honestly, it was downright painful.

"Headmaster, do us all a favour and go back to your table," said Jason, a nasty scowl on his face. The headmaster did so, once again wearing his 'disappointed' face. Jason took it for what it was: a mask.

The silencing ward fell, with the judges all seated, and the overseeing judge scowling from his position. "Parties will rise." Both sides of the isle stood, and Jason felt Mace grab his hand, interlocking their fingers together. The judge let out a sigh, and Jason thought for a moment he was going to reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose, like he'd seen Snape do so many times.

"In the matter of Black nee Potter and his writ of certiorari(1) filed on his behalf by his counsel. It is the decision of this court, that the verdict returned by the English Wizengamot is henceforth declared void and invalid. All properties frozen or confiscated as a result of this verdict shall be returned to their rightful owner in a swift and expeditious manner. It shall also be noted, the English Wizengamot shall not in any way attempt to file charges against Mr. Black regarding this crime. It is not our place to direct individual nations how they may conduct business, but it is our place to insure those before us who have been a victim of the process do not continue to be so." He looked down at the court scribe. "We are off the record."

"My lord." The court scribe tapped the dicta-quill with her wand, and it stopped writing.

"Minister Fudge, I am unsure of exactly what sort of Ministry you may be running back in merry ole' England, but I assure you, I find the case before us here this morning to be disturbing at best. I am sure Madam Fraser brought with her far more evidence than we have viewed here, and I truly fear for exactly what further travesty the young wizard before us endured, falsely accused of such a terrible crime. I do wonder, how many others might be languishing in Azkaban, a victim of such a farce you offer as justice."

"There will be a meeting of the Judicial Committee within a weeks' time to discuss this matter further," said the witch at the left side of the bench, "Perhaps it is time for a wide-scale evaluation and comparison of the judicial processes within the membership."

"Thank you, my lords," said Jason.

"Indeed." The overseeing judge again nodded to the court scribe, and she reactivated the dicta-quill. "Our second matter this morning, James Mace and the English Ministry. All parties again present."

"My lord, this is related to Mr. Black's case," said Sandra, "We believe the victim in this case is only, making a mountain out of a mole hill—forgive the mundane expression."

"If we could see exactly what happened," said the witch on the right. Mace was already producing his wand, and drawing the appropriate memory. It was quickly put into the pensieve, and replayed.

"Where did you learn to cast a spell in that manner, Mr. Mace?" the witch asked.

"Honestly, I still don't know exactly. I just opened some sort of book, and I just knew."

"Someone cannot just 'know' a spell from opening a book," Umbridge simpered, "The man must be lying."

"You know that to be inaccurate, madam," answered a wizard on the left side of the panel, "The enchantments on the room prevent lies. As... unusual... as the explanation may be, he speaks the truth." Turning his attention back to Mace, he asked, "What was your reason for attacking the victim?"

"I didn't know what he planned on doing, but he was drawing something out of his pocket. Didn't trust the look he was giving Jason, so I nailed him. Him dying from it? If Jason was able to fix my busted leg and save me from freezing to death... I doubt having a piece of ice impaled in his arm was gonna kill him."

"A very astute observation, Mr. Mace, and I happen to agree." the wizard turned to Dumbledore. "You've always been known for your theatrics, Professor. I believe this is yet another, and you waste your Ministry's time, and that of the international offices, with a 'witch hunt', which this clearly was. The charges against Mr. Mace are also declared void and invalid, such as those addressing Mr. Black."

"Thank you, um, your honour..." said Mace, with a slight incline of the head.

"Indeed. With nothing further, we adjourn."

"All rise," said the court scribe, and everyone stood.

"Harry, I implore you-"

"It's Mr. Black, Professor," answered Jason, coldly, "You lost your right to address me on familiar terms the day you betrayed me. Now please just go—actually... no, wait a moment. Tell me, how's Fawkes been keeping these days?"

The old wizard's features fell. To Mace, it looked like someone had kicked his puppy. Jason saw this too. "Fawkes?" With a brilliant flash of golden flames, the bird in question popped into the room, and instantly lit down on the shoulder of his new bonded. Seeing his former bond, he let out a string of notes, which to most sounded beautiful. But to Dumbledore, he knew exactly what they were. The bloody bird was mocking him.

"Fawkes knows exactly what you are, professor. I promise, eventually, the rest of the Wizarding world will know, too." He turned to face the rest of the group. "I'm in the mood for some fish and chips. Everyone up to a pick-me-up back at the Blazing Goblet?"

"More than a pick-me-up, Jason. Fuck, you're free!" said Mace, clapping his boyfriend on the back.

"Sure, sounds good to me, Jason," said Ty, with Sandra also agreeing. "Fawkes?" The bird simply offered his tail feathers, and four hands gripped them. Dumbledore attempted to grab on as well, but his hand was burned severely as they flashed away, leaving him behind.

That evening back at the house, it was an impromptu party, with easily a dozen of Jason's supporters present. It culminated in a spectacular fireworks display, courtesy of the twins, and some rather hasty adjustment of furniture to accommodate the guests overnight. And, although the pair kept things relatively tame, neither Jason nor Mace got much sleep that night.

Meanwhile, across the pond, Fawkes made one more visit to his former bonded. He swooped into his bedroom, lifted his tail, and left a rather nasty surprise on the headmaster's pillow for him to discover when he turned in for the night. It was most unfortunate he'd already left for the day, but that was fine. The bird could wait the old man out. He was immortal, after all, while the headmaster was not.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: (1) Writ of Certiorari: According to Wikipedia, it currently means an order by a higher court directing a lower court, tribunal, or public authority to send the record in a given case for review. In this case, the ICW calls the affected parties before them to review evidence. I'm likely reaching here, but I use artistic license, and it is the Wizarding world we're talking about._


	9. Old Friends

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted May 17, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 9-**

**OLD FRIENDS**

* * *

As Jason awoke the following morning, the first thing he noticed was the heat. Even with the windows left wide open to let in the outside air, he was soaked with sweat. For a moment, he thought the house was on fire, but the absence of the smell of smoke dispelled that idea. He went to produce his wand, but found his arm pinned under his mate, who was also glistening with sweat.

"Mace?"

"Huh?"

"Gotta get up," Jason whispered, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on his shoulder, "Place feels like a an oven."

"No kidding. Holy fuck." Mace shook the cobwebs out of his head and rubbed his eyes. "Never felt it this hot back where I'm from." He propped himself up on one arm, letting Jason's arm free. Jason then produced his wand, and cast a cooling charm on the room, causing the temperature to drop by a few degrees. They both instantly shivered.

"Err... maybe not. Let's—" The door burst open, and a pair of rather noisy twins practically flew into the room. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" they both chorused, only to stop dead, realizing their wake up call was unnecessary. Jason, however, smirked, wand still in his hand. "_Rictumsempra_!" he exclaimed, sending both red heads to the floor being tickled mercilessly by some invisible hand.

He cancelled the spell a few seconds later, leaving the pair heaving on the floor. "Y'know, as much as we appreciated the, um, wake up call, we could have been engaged in something a little more—"

"Private," Mace finished, feeling his face flush. Of course, they'd not ever gone that far yet, but both of them knew it was only a matter of time. Mace thought for a moment, then said, "Besides, they're a day late anyway."

"With all that was going on," Fred began.

"Bill thought we might throw you a party today," George finished.

"If you would let or mum come along, she'd love to see you."

"Well..."

"Jason. I think it would be awesome."

"I just don't like people to make a big deal about things. What happened yesterday's probably already front page news back in England... likely everywhere else come to think of it." There came another knock at the door, and Bill stuck his head in. "you guys are late for breakfast."

"We'll be down shortly," said Jason, at last swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Send word your mum and dad are welcome to come visit us."

"No one else," Mace threw in, "I know Jason's got issues with some of your family right now."

"So do we," said George, with a scowl, "So do we. We'll make sure mum knows."

It was another half-hour before the pair of them stepped into the rather noisy kitchen. The table had already been cleared, but seeing the pair, Kreacher had everything back out: cereal, toast, pumpkin juice, eggs, and bacon. Jason only then realized he was hungry, and began adding items to his plate. "'morning, everyone."

"And a good morning to you too, Jason. Thank you for putting us up for the night, but we do have to get going. I still need to stop home and freshen up, I've got a ten o'clock hearing to attend," said Sandra.

"I'll likely be by later this afternoon, though," said Ty, "I'll have more paperwork for you guys to look over and sign."

"You guys are always welcome here," said Jason, "And thanks. Thanks for everything."

"Oh, I don't think you'll be rid of us that fast," said Sandra, with a smile, "Somehow I know you have a rather lengthy agenda concerning a number of people back in England."

"Yeah, you'd be absolutely right. But I insist from here on out, I pay for your services. I appreciate you taking my original case for free, but the issues now are nothing to do with my freedom. I won't be seen to be taking advantage of people. That's something Malfoy would've done."

"We'll talk about that more in the coming days, then. Now we really have to get going. Do enjoy your day, and try not to get into too much trouble." Sandra and Ty were already heading out the door. They stepped out into the yard, and vanished with a soft pop.

Mrs. Weasley could hardly believe it. The young man who now stood in front of her had changed so much from the small boy she first remembered meeting one summer night eight years ago. He wore a brown tee shirt that hugged his frame rather nicely, a pair of jeans that had been hacked off just above the knees, and although he was still incredibly skinny, he looked well, with lots of colour in his face. His hair was then longer and stringy, rather than the bird's nest she remembered—she had to resist a frown a that, since his hair nearly reached his shoulders, somewhat like her eldest boy. No matter, this was still the same boy, now very much a man, and she enveloped him in one of her bone-crushing hugs. "Harry..."

"It's Jason, now, Mrs. Weasley... and if... I might breathe..." She broke the embrace, then held him at arms' length, as a mother would inspect a child she'd not seen in some time. "You look well, considering..."

"I'm feeling better, Mrs. Weasley. And thanks... thanks for believing in me."

"There is no way you would have done what they said you had done. I can't believe Albus would throw you to the wolves in that way!"

"Don't get me started on the great Albus Dumbledore," said Jason, scowling. He brightened, though. "Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. This is James Mace. Mace... Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, the twins' and Bill's parents."

"Good to meet you." They shook hands. "Jason saved my life over a month ago now."

"Yes, well, he's certainly got that in him," said Mr. Weasley, with a frown.

"You don't like that idea?"

"NO. No, nothing like that," answered Mr. Weasley, frowning, "Only, some people need to appreciate exactly what that sort of thing means."

"Our youngest sister, Ginny. Jason saved her life about seven years ago. She repays him by spouting the most vile comments during his trial," said Fred, grimly.

"One of many people, Mace."

"Har—Jason, you know what a life debt is?" Mr. Weasley asked, as the group moved into the living room.

Jason gestured for them to have a seat. "Um... no, never heard of it."

"A life debt occurs when one wizard or witch saves the life of another."

"Then it would mean..." Mace began, to which Mr. Weasley slowly nodded. "What does it mean?"

"Let's say Har—Jason was to call it due. He could in theory ask you to do just about anything."

"It's a grave thing, a life debt, but equally so, it's one of humility," said Bill, "You acted to save another's life. Whether the person deserved it or not, you, in acting, give that person worth, validated their existence."

"Is that... why I feel... I dunno, drawn to him then?" Mace asked.

"It's possible. But if so, it would be very minor, compared to other feelings between the pair of you," Bill answered. Mrs. Weasley looked confused for a moment, then it dawned on her.

Jason could see it at once. "Yes, we're sleeping together," he said, bluntly, feeling his face again get rather hot. "Right. I think that's enough dark thoughts for now. You guys did come to visit for a reason, after all, and I strongly doubt it was to talk about my love life."

The day ended up being virtually an extension of the previous evening, as Jason celebrated his nineteenth birthday. Mrs. Weasley had brought a cake along with her, and the old house elf cooked up a storm, seeming to know the things Jason liked the best.

Just before dinner time, as promised, Ty arrived, bringing with him a few items requiring Jason's signature, as well as a single item requiring that of Mace. Jason arched an eyebrow as he read the item for his boyfriend.

"Citizenship? That fast?"

"Remember, Jason, things move along much quicker in the magical world," Ty reminded him.

"Right."

Mace already had a pen ready, as the documents were slid across the table to him. Jason, meanwhile, read through the rest of the items needing his attention. One set of documents was an updated agreement between him and the law firm. The cost would be expensive, but Jason was by no means concerned about it. If people just expected him to roll over and take it, they were sadly mistaking. Another set was identical to the one Mace had, and Jason signed and dated it. The final set of documents dealt with Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, which had been released back to him rather forcibly by the ICW. He had to smirk, remembering how the appellate court had spoken to the dumpy man who was England's Minister for Magic.

"What?" Mace had caught Jason's look.

"Just thinking of the wonderful tongue-lashing the ICW's court served up on ole Fudgie yesterday. A Patronus-worthy memory, I think."

"A Patronus?"

"Oh. You don't remember?" Jason drew his wand. "_Expecto Patronum_," he whispered, and a brilliant white light erupted from the end of it, to instantly take the form of an enormous stag, barely able to fit within the tight confines of the room. It seemed to look around for a moment, then nuzzled against Jason's side, and vanished.

Ty was astounded, while Mace simply gave a nod. "Damn. You used that against the Dementors."

"Exactly. It needs happy memories... he looked a little brighter today, I think," Jason grinned, feeling his face get warm. Mace smirked, knowing what Jason was thinking.

"Jason! You almost done? We're gonna toss a quaffle around... coming?" came George's voice from the yard.

"Hold on guys, just about done." He double-checked the last set of forms, and slid them across the table to Ty.

"Though there'll likely be some sort of small ceremony at the Ministry, welcome to Canada, guys."

"Thanks, mate." They all stood.

"I'm heading back to the office. Have a good night, the both of you. And Jason... a happy belated birthday."

"Thanks."

After seeing Ty leave, Jason went up to his room, and opened his trunk. He'd not been in it all that much since it was returned to him, but if he was going to play, he needed his broom. He found it stowed safely off to one side, shrunken down so it would fit. It would likely need a bit of T.L.C. Eventually, but for now, it would be flyable. He retrieved the broom, slammed the lid to the trunk shut, and went back downstairs. By the looks of it, Mace had already gone outside.

The back yard was not exactly defined, as the grass seemed to get rougher the further away from the house one went, until it at last met a rather large pond. They figured it was about twenty to twenty-five feet deep at its deepest point, and given the hot weather, it would likely be the consistency of soup by now.

Mace gave Jason a curious look, seeing him carrying the broom. "You fly that?"

"Yeah, that's the idea." Jason smirked and said, "You know how to fly, err... Muggle airplanes, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then this'll probably be a breeze for you." Jason held the broom level. "Hop on."

"Um..."

"Scared?" Jason stuck his tongue out. The challenge was quickly accepted, and Mace took a seat on the broom. He was surprised to find it was actually comfortable. "Right. Feet in the stirrups... great." He jumped on behind him. "Squeeze ahead a bit." Jason was actually impressed, as his mate had instinctively gripped the broom correctly.

"Flight controls are the same?"

"Somewhat. Depends on where your hands are. Shift your hands ahead a bit... great. Now, pitch forward—not too fast... more aggressively you do that, the faster we go." The broom had lurched forward, and Jason had to grab around his mate's waist before he fell off the back of it. "Shifting your body left or right turns..."

"I'm the stick, then," said Mace.

"The what?"

"The stick... or yoke... it's what the pilot uses to control the control surfaces of the aircraft. This case, it's like I'm the stick, if that makes any sense."

"I guess... I mean, I wouldn't know. When we flew across the Atlantic, it was the first time I've ever been on a plane."

"How fast can this go?"

"I dunno, a hundred fifty miles an hour, maybe. It was the fastest broom in the world when I got it. Been a few years though, so there might be something faster now."

the broom was gone like a shot, and Jason was forced to grab on for dear life. He'd certainly done some crazy manoeuvres on it, but this... it was bordering on scary. Once... twice... three times, they actually rolled completely over and back. They'd banked so far over they were virtually perpendicular to the ground. At least twice they'd done a complete loop-the-loop, all of it pushing the powerful broom to its maximum. They'd shot out over the lake, then back, up to the road, back across the property, back out over the lake, this time so close to the water Jason had actually got his feet wet.

They finally came to a stop near the back door of the house, and Jason could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. He loved flying, but the broom ride he'd just been treated to... he slowly dismounted, took several steps forward, and fell flat on his arse, the result of a sudden onset of dizziness.

Mace, of course, was mortified. "Jason?"

Jason, however, burst out laughing. Oh sure, it was scary, but would he do it again? Absolutely!

"You're all right?"

"Fuck yeah," Jason answered, although he continued to sit on the ground, the world still spinning a little too fast for comfort. "That was almost as good as a good shag, I think." Mace arched an eyebrow, but leaned the broom up against the side of the house, and flopped down beside Jason on the ground.

"It wasn't quite as... um... intense as being shot into space, but... damn!"

Dizzy as he was, Jason smirked, and pulled them both down so they were looking up at the sky. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Some of my happiest moments have been on a broom. You just added another, I think."

their quiet moment was interrupted, as a pair of red heads appeared on brooms of their own. "You coming, Jason?"

"Just a minute or two, but yeah."

"That was some wicked flying, mate," said George.

"He does know how to fly a plane, guys."

Fred arched an eyebrow. "A real areoplane, like what dad is always on about?"

Mace nodded. "Something a lot more complex than what you might imagine, but the idea's still the same. They all work the same way."

"Wicked."

"No, wicked is seeing Earth from up there..." Mace pointed up at the sky. "Not just... in flight. From outer space. Really puts a lot of things into perspective."

"Not following," said George, looking confused, "Getting up there, like really up there? Can't be possible."

"Trust me, it is. This is what... year 2000 here? We've already been into space... uh... not sure how many times up to now, but it's nothing small. We've been to the moon and back."

"You're pulling our leg."

"Jason, I think your mate here is gone 'round the twist," said George.

"Jason... could I borrow your pensieve later? I'll bet the pair of you... twenty of your gold coins... that I'm telling the truth."

"Actually you wouldn't even need to do that. A Muggle museum would have stuff on that," said Jason, "I'll ask Ty or Sandra. But guys, really. Muggles have done a lot more than we give them credit for." He sat up, no longer feeling the very motion of the earth beneath him. "Right. We going flying or not?"

"Right."

"Mace... coming?"

They only broke for dinner, and spent a good part of the evening in the sky, only landing when the sun was just about gone over the horizon. All in all, it had been a good day spent with his strongest supporters. However, the heat, coupled with the stress of everything over the past day or so had him bid everyone a good evening, with his boyfriend quick to follow, tired or not.

"You okay?"

"Just wore out," Jason answered, leaning his broom up in the corner behind the door, "Just need a bit more down time. I trust Bill will look after his family for the night and so on." He let out a sigh. "At least the room's not an oven anymore. Merlin, this morning I thought the house was on fire."

"Slept like the dead, didn't notice until you woke me up. Jesus, that was warm. Nowhere back where I came from ever got that hot, I don't think... not in my lifetime anyway. Honestly, it actually felt good. You don't know what cold is until..."

"Mace... I do, remember? We almost froze to death."

"Fair enough. But our own planet..."

"Yeah... I guess I see your point." He shed his shirt, tossing it into a nearby chair. His shorts quickly followed, leaving him in his undershorts. He flicked his wand at the door, casting a moderate locking charm on it. "We won't be bothered so easily in the morning."

_Jason once again found himself in the graveyard, the high, cold voice calling in a whisper, "Kill the spare."_

"_Avada kedavra!" cried Wormtail to the night, and Harry spun to see the killing curse strike. But it was not Cedric standing in the path of the green bolt of magic… it was Mace._

"_He certainly is a pretty thing, Harry," the Dark Lord mocked, prodding Mace's head with his foot. Wormtail was gone, as was the enormous cauldron._

"_Leave him alone!" Jason shouted, but Voldemort simply continued to smirk. "You do realize, I will kill every single individual who stands with you against me, Harry. And then, only when you are alone and friendless, we will meet. Give yourself to me, and this-" he again gestured at Mace's body, "-does not have to repeat."_

"_NO. I'll never join you, Tom." Jason fought back the tears threatening to leak out of his eyes, and stood defiant. 'Come on, wake up!' he shouted in his mind._

_Voldemort's face contorted with fury for a moment, but he relaxed his features. "Come now, Harry, can you be sure this is anything but real?"_

"_NO! I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Jason shouted, his voice echoing across the graveyard, "This... this isn't real. I know it! Not real! Not r...mmmmf..."_

Jason's eyes flew open, and he found his lips locked with Mace's. That was it, the dam holding back his emotions finally broke, and the young wizard broke down as they broke for air. Mace did his best to comfort his mate, but was again at a loss as to what was going on, as to what had set him off this time. They had been cleared of all charges, right? They were thousands of miles away from England and the war at this point, right?

It was nearly an hour before Jason would even dare open his mouth.

"K-k-kreacher..." he called, his voice hoarse.

_Pop_. "Yes master Jason."

"C-c-calming draught, please."

"Of course, master." He popped away, to return only a few moments later with the requested potion. Jason consumed it at once, and took a few deep breaths, letting the foul potion take effect.

"Thank you, Kreacher."

"Is master needing anything further?"

"No. Sorry I disturbed you."

"Kreacher was cleaning up after messy bl—friends." he popped away.

"Sounds like we missed out on the fun," said Mace, daring to crack a smile. It was returned momentarily. "Now what got you all fucked up?"

"Voldemort... in the grave yard. The night Cedric was killed. I haven't shown you the memory yet... nasty substitution."

"Who?"

"You. He... killing curse... and you were gone." The tears again welled up in his eyes, but he forced the emotion down, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"This shit happen often?"

"No... thankfully not but... you died in front of me!" Jason blurted.

"Just a dream. I... I don't remember my dreams. Dunno whether that's a blessing or a curse, but... wish I could give it to you... if it makes sense."

"Wish you could too, but... I wouldn't wish this on anyone, Mace. No one. In... in the morning, I'll have Kreacher get me some dreamless sleep potions. I can't... take them a lot, because they're addictive, but... occasionally... they do help."

"But you're afraid he'll come after me."

"Mace. He WILL come after you. That dream..." Jason reached up, and touched his scar. It was throbbing, and sure enough, there was the faint speckle of blood in with the sweat. "It wasn't completely false. He knows about you. If he can, he will come after you... just as much as he would the Weasleys... although likely much more. The bastard was overjoyed when he realized exactly what Cedric meant to me." He again took several deep breaths, as he felt the lump rising in his throat. "That's why... I really have to start practising Occlumency. So I can keep him out."

"So this..." Mace dared touch the unusual scar on Jason's forehead, "Is some sort of link to Voldemort. Can he see everything you do?"

"I dunno. I don't think so. I think it's only when we get really emotional. The scary thing is, though... he tried to possess me four years ago. I know this. It was rather painful... for the both of us, but I think far more on his end... see, the one thing he can't stand is something both you and I have in spades: something called love. Dumbledore thinks that's the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' referenced in the prophecy."

"So if I were to do this..." Mace leaned in, and kissed Jason's infamous scar.

At precisely that moment thousands of miles away, the Dark Lord felt a stabbing pain in numerous places across his body. It literally felt like... four years prior, when he had attempted to possess Potter. And... as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Voldemort did not shout or scream or cry out, but the pain was nearly as potent as the Cruciatus curse. What had the boy done to affect him so? Considering, just a little while earlier, he'd sent such a wonderful present to the boy. Perhaps, it was a thank-you card. No matter, he would think of some kind of method by which to repay him...

Jason's eyes snapped open, feeling the thoughts of the Dark Lord. His scar was throbbing a bit, but given the reason, it was worth it.

"He's pissed. You hurt him... not bad, but it hurt. He compared it to his attempt to possess me four years ago."

"You okay?"

"It hurt a little, but... It hurt him more. That's a good thing any day, I think."

"Maybe we should do it more often, then."

"That's twisted, Mace." Jason burst out laughing.

The following morning, Bill was by again, this time bringing with him a copy of the Daily Prophet. "You're not gonna like it, Jason."

The front page featured three different pictures of Jason. One of them was a picture they had used frequently during the Tri-wizard Tournament. The second was a picture snapped of him and Dumbledore in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, immediately following the fiasco there which had cost him his godfather. The third was the front mug shot they had taken of him when he first arrived at Azkaban.

_BOY WHO LIVED CLEARED OF CHARGES!_

_Flees Great Britain, Renounces Citizenship!_

_- By Rita Skeeter_

_In a startling turn of events, the International Confederation of Wizards has reviewed the murder conviction of Harry Potter, and declared it void and invalid. In a press release yesterday, the Minister for Magic called the decision, most dire and incomprehensible, perhaps one of the worst blunders the international court could have made. "We all know exactly what kind of danger Mr. Potter truly is to the Wizarding community at large, and will continue to work to ensure said community knows this, and are prepared to deal with the threat he poses."_

_When questioned about where Mr. Potter is presently, the Ministry was quick to answer, "We received notification he has renounced his English citizenship, and become a Canadian citizen effective August 2nd." There are many questions as to why he would do such a thing, given he was cleared of all charges in relation to the murder of Dennis Creevey over four years ago. This reporter believes the boy is not the noble Gryffindor he makes himself out to be, but a coward, unwilling to face up to the challenges set out by destiny. Or, perhaps it is only an extension of his behaviour four years ago, while he was still a student at Hogwarts—an attention seeking, delusional liar at best. I might concede he is right in the fact You-Know-Who is indeed back, but little else. Perhaps-_

Jason didn't bother finish reading. He drew his wand, intending to set the foul paper on fire, but decided to take a different route. "I need to make a floo call." He dropped the paper on the table, and Mace picked it up.

"Who's this Skeeter person?"

"Foul witch, she is," answered Bill, "Wrote dreadful articles about both Jason and Dumbledore during fifth year." Mace frowned, and scanned the article.

"Sandra's gonna chew her up and spit her out for lunch."

"Oh, my thoughts exactly," said Bill, "She won't tolerate this sort of rubbish."

"These people are fucking retards. Calling him a delusional liar? Do that in the _New York Times_, see what happens."

"Sandra will be by this afternoon," said Jason, reclaiming a seat at the kitchen table. "I'll keep hold of the paper, but it's likely she'll pick up a copy on her own." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No Occlumency today, I don't think... won't be calm enough."

It was then an owl swooped in through the open window, and Jason almost fell out of his seat.

"Hedwig!" he exclaimed, as the snowy-white owl fluttered down to rest on the corner of the table. She had a letter tied to her leg.

"You are well? People looking after you?" He asked. She simply ruffled her feathers, and blinked her eyes at him, then extended her leg. "From your current keeper, I take it?" He relieved her of the letter. "Here." A slice of bacon was the offering, and she snatched it up happily. Jason, meanwhile, unfolded the parchment. The seal was rather ordinary, just enough to keep the parchment closed.

_Harry—Or is it Jason, now?_

_You are probably beyond angry with the both of us, for our betrayal. In your shoes, I would be too. But I ask you hear us out before jumping to any sort of conclusion. You weren't the only one to be betrayed. So were we, and not by you, Harry—or Jason... God I'm having difficulty getting my head around that one._

_You probably already know some of it, knowing you are an intelligent man. But it was Dumbledore who betrayed us, twisted our testimony in the most unflattering way, all to paint you in a bad light in front of the Wizengamot during your trial. _(Harry was scratched out here)_ Jason, you know we wouldn't outright turn our backs on you, not without outside interference._

_We discovered the deception about a week ago during a visit to Upper Canada Hospital (It's the Wizarding hospital here in Canada). I will not divulge further details about why we were being seen by a healer, but it did reveal our memories had been tampered with. It was rather startling to realize that four years of our lives have been part fiction. Believe me, both Ron and I were beyond devastated at exactly what had been done. It is safe to say, both of us shed a good many tears over the loss of our friendship with you. Honestly, I would be more than shocked, should you ever wish to see the pair of us ever again._

_I do have to say this, Jason. I will always remember that brilliant young wizard coming to my rescue in first year and saving me from that troll. Hope you are well, and I hope you find happiness in a future, whether it be with us or not._

(Hermione had signed her name, as had Ron)

Jason simply sat there, stunned. On one hand, his two closest friends had just vindicated themselves. On the other, yet one more betrayal to lay at the feet of the meddling old headmaster.

"Who's it from?" Mace dared ask.

"It... It's from Hermione and Ron."

"Your backstabbing friends."

"Not anymore. Get me a parchment and a pen. Fawkes?" The bird in question fluttered over from his perch in the living room. Bill, meanwhile, had fetched a page of parchment off the counter, along with a quill and ink. Jason quickly scribbled out a reply, then rolled it up. Fawkes snatched it up in one of his claws. "To Ron and Hermione, okay?" The bird flashed away.

Mace guessed whatever was in the letter was a good thing, because his mate at this point was practically glowing, as though another huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I wasn't the only one betrayed by Dumbledore," Jason answered simply.

"So you're just letting them come here?"

"I'll be asking them some very direct questions first," said Bill, with a scowl, "Jason, really, this could be a trap."

"My thoughts too," said Mace.

"It doesn't feel that way, and..." He gestured to Hedwig, who had taken to preening herself on the corner of the kitchen table. He thought for a moment, then scribbled out another note. "Kreacher?"

The elf instantly appeared. "Yes, master Jason?"

"Take this to Professor Snape at Hogwarts. We need a vial of Veritaserum along with the antidote. Find out how much it costs, and I'll pay him back."

"Right away, master Jason." He popped away.

"You're getting potions from Snape," Bill deadpanned.

"I trust him," Jason answered, "As nasty a man as he was toward me, I still trust him. One of only a few professors who actually supported me in some way. Or in his case, when given the chance to hang me, he didn't."

surprisingly, it was Kreacher who returned first, with two small vials in his hand. "One hundred galleons, says the professor, master Jason."

"Of course he would make it expensive."

"The ingredients are expensive, remember," Bill pointed out.

"Right. Kreacher, you mind settling up with him? Just pull out what you need from my vault." The elf gave a low bow, and again popped away.

"Still fucked up how he's able to do that," said Mace, shaking his head, "Going form here across the Atlantic just like that—" he snapped his fingers as he finished speaking.

"That's the nature of it though. There are a good number of things in our world that work much faster, and perhaps far more conveniently than in the Muggle world," said Bill, "Wait until you learn how to Apparate."

"Do what?"

"Apparition. You've seen Sandra and Ty do it... me, come to think of it."

"Yeah, something else we need to think about," Jason agreed. Just then, there was a flash of flames outside, and Fawkes had returned, with two people clutching his tail feathers. "C'mon, let's see if this is for real."

"Har—Jason?" Hermione couldn't believe it. Oh, it was most definitely Harry—or Jason, as he was now calling himself. But he was barely recognizable. He'd become a man during his incarceration, now nineteen, rather than the fifteen year-old boy carted off to Azkaban four years prior.

"Hermione," said Jason. His voice had changed, too. A little deeper now, to match the mature man standing before her.

Hermione, too, had changed. Her hair was no longer the bushy mess she constantly fought with during their time at Hogwarts. It was neatly done up, and well suited her figure. She was a woman now, much like Jason was now a mature man.

Ron, was still Ron. He'd matured as well, but it was somewhat like looking back four years, when it came to the red head. He'd certainly grown a little taller, a little more stocky, but it was so easy to remember their first meeting on the train eight years prior.

"How are ya, mate?"

"After getting your letter, loads better," said Jason, brightly. His smile dimmed, however. "However. As much as I want to trust things at face value, I've learned I can't. So I have to ask you guys some questions... while you're dosed with this." Jason opened his hand, revealing the vial of Veritaserum.

"If that's what I have to do to have my first friend back, then so be it," said Hermione, bluntly. Ron said nothing, but nodded in agreement.

"We're only going to ask a few questions, but I think it'll get right to the point as to whether you're being honest or not," said Bill, casting a scathing glance at Ron. He then gestured with his wand, conjuring a few chairs. "Let's sit down."

Jason decided he would question Hermione first, and she allowed three drops of the clear liquid to fall on her tongue. Waiting for the appropriate time, he then asked, "What sort of potion did you create during our second year?"

"It was polyjuice potion," she answered, her tone being dull and relaxed.

"And where was this potion prepared?"

"In the second floor girls' bathroom."

"Good. It's working," said Jason. Bill then picked up the questioning. "Did you believe Harry Potter was guilty of murder?"

"No."

"Did you willingly participate in the prosecution of Harry Potter during his trial for the murder of Dennis Creevey?"

"No. I was memory-charmed and compelled to testify against him."

"Who cast the memory charms and compulsion charms?"

"I don't know... but it may have been Dumbledore."

"I'm satisfied," said Bill.

"Then so am I," said Jason, producing the second vial. This one contained a slightly cloudy mixture—the antidote. It was quickly offered.

The questioning went virtually the same for Ron, with a similar result. It was at that point, Jason greeted his old friends warmly, as all was forgiven.

"I guess now that all that awful business is out of the way, I want to introduce you to someone."

"Finally remembered I'm here, huh?" Mace smirked. He'd taken to standing by the house, keeping out of the meeting to this point.

"Guys... James Mace... my, uh..."

"Boyfriend," Mace smirked again.

"Mace... my best friends, Ron and Hermione." They shook hands firmly, and Mace said, "Up to this morning, your names were swear words around here, I think."

"Don't blame you guys at all," said Ron, "We felt horrible when we found out."

"What happened anyway? I mean, don't go into too many details, but-"

"Dreams. Hermione was having weird dreams," Ron supplied, "So we went to see a mind healer in Toronto. They discovered several memory charms, including obliviation. Everything that happened during your trial was a farce, mate."

"Which was overturned, but you guys know that."

"Oh, yes absolutely! We danced around the kitchen when we saw the National Wizards' Standard. That's why we sent Hedwig."

"Guess it should have been some sort of flag, y'know. Hermione and I left England two years ago, and your bloody bird actually came and found us!"

"You're twisting my leg," said Jason, shaking his head.

"I swear it," said Ron, "About six days after we moved into our flat in Vancouver, there she was, preening herself on our balcony."

"Vancouver?"

"Yeah, wanted to put as many miles between us and England as we could... nearly went for Australia, but..."

"Mum and dad decided it would be nice if we were close to aunt Heather. She lives in Victoria, so it's just a ferry ride to visit," Hermione picked up.

"You guys in a Muggle neighbourhood, or in a Wizarding community?"

"Muggle community, but... we have a floo connection, if you're wondering."

"Excellent. So do we." Jason leaned back in the seat he was in. "God, your letter was so timely. I was ready to commit murder, I think."

"Who and why?" came Hermione's question.

"Rita Skeeter, for calling me an attention-seeking liar. I think though, she's about to find out she can't do that to me anymore and not face consequences." There was that creepy smile again.

"You mean sue her. Har—Jason, she's an English witch—"

"It won't matter. Not according to my attorney anyway. That's why they don't tend to say a lot about things outside of England. They normally know not to. Skeeter seems to have forgotten that, and that wonderful little error on her part will prove costly. If I have my way, her poison pen will be snapped for good." He thought for a moment. "You guys stick around, you'll probably meet my attorney. She's coming over this afternoon to discuss this... bug problem." That caused Hermione to crack a smile, remembering the end of forth year. Jason let out a giggle. "Y'know, I hope when she comes to face charges, she tries to get in using her Animagus form. They'll cart her off to jail in a heartbeat."

"Animagus? What's that?" Mace questioned.

"Some witches or wizards can change into an animal at will," Bill explained, "You've met Professor McGonagall. She has an animal form, although I won't tell you what it is... but point being, you wouldn't know unless they told you. If you ask nicely, she might show you. But point here, Rita Skeeter's an unregistered Animagus. You have to register with the Ministry if you're able to do it. Not doing so can earn you a prison term."

"Can anyone learn that?"

"Well, my dad and his friends did, but... it's not something easy, that's for sure. It took them a few years, I think... least what I could gather," Jason answered, "And my godfather... Sirius... he could turn into an enormous dog." He momentarily darkened at the thought of him.

"Mr. Mace..."

"Just Mace."

"Er... right. You're new in the Wizarding world, then?" Hermione asked.

"Pretty much, yeah. Jason's been helping me learn, shit like that."

"You didn't get a letter when you turned eleven?" Ron was confused.

"Guys... he got his magic in an... unusual manner. Show them your ice spike."

"You mean this." It happened in the blink of an eye. The orb appeared in Mace's hand, he held it up, and with a loud KAWHACK! A shard of ice blasted from his hand, to impact with the ground about thirty feet away. The impact sounded like someone had busted a plate glass window.

"He disarmed Dumbledore with it," said Jason, proudly.

"'course that was... shit... well over a month ago now." Mace shook his head, as it sunk in. All that had happened over the short time he'd been with Jason.

"All right?"

"Just thinking. Just over a month ago, I was an engineer on a spacecraft. Magic was something so far out in left field... fuck, it's not funny, right. I nearly die in below freezing water, and here comes this scruffy thing the cat could've dragged in off the street, hauls my ass out of the water, brings me back to life... uses his wand—I just thought it was a stick at first..." He shook his head again, but grinned. "Yeah... so he has this weird device on him, and a thick book. I opened it, and fuck... it was like getting a crash course in magic. Best description."

"And if you think that's bullocks..." Jason stowed his wand, and produced a similar glowing orb in his hand. Another KAWHACK! And another shard of ice impacted the ground in exactly the same spot as Mace's projectile had landed.

"Books that instantly teach magic? Wicked," said Ron, "So could we read it?"

"Not that one. It vanished the second I read it," said Jason, sadly.

Hermione, though, stared at Mace, wide-eyed. "Wait. You're saying, you weren't born magical?"

"Exactly that, Hermione. And please don't pester him about it. We still don't know exactly how it works. And yes, he can use a wand, too."

"Though it's hard making it work."

"Yes and Mr. O'toole did say you would. You've almost got the levitation charm working."

"You have trouble with your wand?" Hermione guessed.

"O'toole did say it was 'unyielding'," Jason remembered.

"Oh, bad luck there, mate," said Ron.

"No, I think it's brilliant. Sure, he'll have a bit of trouble taming it, but God... once he does..." Jason slid an arm around his boyfriend. "He'll be a force to be reckoned with."

"What, I'm not already?"

"Oh, you're funny..." Jason stuck out his tongue.

The day was wasted, as Jason got caught up with his old friends. Hermione was studying to earn her teaching credentials—for some reason this did not surprise Jason in the least. The young witch was a bookworm through and through, so it was only fitting she would fall into a career track that involved lots of reading, and lots of studying. Ron, meanwhile, had a try out for the national Quidditch team coming up in September. Once again, it so made sense. After all, his friend _was_ mad about Quidditch. He also had an interview lined up with the headmistress at _Upper Canada Academy for Wizarding Studies, _the Wizarding school in Canada, for the position of flying instructor. Word had gotten out their current instructor was looking to retire soon. Naturally, being the flying instructor would also mean being the referee for Quidditch matches, among other things.

One thing was clear. Much like Jason had, his best friends had long since left England behind, learning there were better places in the world, far from the madness unfolding there. They were carving out a new life for themselves, and he had to wonder how long it would be before the pair actually tied the knot. That got him to further think: how many more of his allies could he drag away from merry ole England? If Voldemort wanted to rule the British Wizarding world, then perhaps he should. It would serve the lot of them right.

Sandra Apparated in just after dinner, bringing with her another stack of forms, as well as a copy of that day's Daily Prophet. After introductions, she got right down to business.

"What do you want to do, Jason?"

"Best question, what can I do to her? I'm sick of her poison pen, I really am."

"Given you're now a Canadian citizen, you're protected by our laws in both the mundane world and the magical world."

"No shit," said Mace, "Fuck, I'd love to see her try and pull that shit working for the _New York Times_, see how far she gets."

"Well, we know the answer to that one: it wouldn't leave the editor's office, and she'd likely be fired. Even with the _National Wizards' Standard_, our paper, it wouldn't make it to press."

"Nail her to the wall. That's what I want," said Jason, gravely.

"Who and what?" Hermione questioned.

"Rita Skeeter. She had some rather interesting things to say about me in the _Prophet_ today," said Jason, tossing over the paper. "In a way I knew she'd have something to say about me, laws be damned. Now I get the pleasure of paying her back for all the lovely comments she's made about me the past few years."

"By suing her," Hermione guessed.

Jason gave an abrupt nod. "You got it. I have a rather lengthy shit list, right... and honestly, up to this morning, the both of you were on it."

"Jason... you have no idea how difficult it was, once we realized what had truly happened," said Hermione.

"When I was in Azkaban, some of the things that went through my mind, was what I'd say to you two should we ever meet again. I swore up and down I'd never forgive either of you, unless there were some extenuating circumstances—circumstances which obviously came to pass... should have known my two best friends wouldn't turn their backs on me willingly."

"I will be having a chat with a few people in Geneva over the next couple of weeks," said Sandra, "Given the scope of the crimes and so on, I think I might be able to make a case for the ICW to convene a special tribunal. I make no promises, since the last such tribunal took place just after Grindelwald was defeated."

"I think that would be brilliant," said Jason.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So... Mace flying a broom like a maverick? Think about it. Not only was he the Icarus II's engineer, he was also the co-pilot. He would certainly understand flight dynamics & so on, and I strongly suspect he likely had some sort of flight training as well. So yeah, he wouldn't have any trouble mastering the broom._


	10. Curiosity Killed the Cat

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted May 24, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 10-  
CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT  
**

* * *

_Evening of August 10, 2000_

For the first time since before Jason's birthday, he and Mace were alone for the evening. As much as Jason appreciated the company and so on, it was nice to actually have a bit of peace and quiet. So, the pair of them were squished up together in an overly large bean chair, on the back porch of the house, enjoying each others' company. The heat was still with them, suffocating southwestern Ontario in a near-deadly bout of heat and humidity. The two of them, however, were more than comfortable, thanks to the use of mild cooling charms.

"Hey Jason."

"Yeah."

"You give that hourglass thing anymore thought?"

"No, not really. I mean, though it brought me to you... we almost died, so... I'm a bit weary of it."

"Makes sense, I guess. You are a magnet for disasters, based on what you told me."

"Ain't that the truth," Jason snorted, digging in the pocket of his shorts, and pulling out the strange device. Even though it did make him weary, he kept it on him. In retrospect, it had given him a way to escape a dire situation, and had saved both of them from a situation far worse. Still... "I keep it on me just the same... it got me out of two dire situations, right?'

"True. But you're not curious how it works, shit like that?"

"You mean experiment with it? No thanks. We could end up in Timbuktu for all I know."

"That's a real place you know."

"Really?" Jason let out a giggle. "Well... let's not test it out anyway. Or well... I'd rather not land on another spacecraft with a piss-poor air supply."

"Maybe you might pick up another boyfriend."

"I like the one I got," Jason smirked. He let out a yawn and gave a stretch, but snuggled in close again. "You're mine, forever." He craned his neck so their eyes met, and they kissed, while Jason's hand was busy feeling under Mace's shirt, rubbing his chest.

Sometime later, Mace slowly came awake. They were still cuddled together on the bean bag, with the only light being from the moon, and Jason still clutched the strange device in his hand—the device that brought them together. He dared reach out and touch it. It was a rather unique device, come to think of it—never mind its magical properties. He got to thinking, if Jason was able to save him... could they go back and perhaps... save anyone else? A picture of a certain nerdy physicist popped into his head.

* * *

Jason's blissful dream of flying with his boyfriend and doing unnatural things on a broom were rather abruptly shattered, with the rather obvious motions of travelling by port key. What the hell? Flying across time and space, he was already assessing the worst: Death Eaters had somehow gotten to him and his boyfriend. He cursed at himself in his head. He'd put too much trust in the security of Canada's magical borders, and now it had proven costly. Question was, were they taking them directly to the Dark Lord, or to some undisclosed location which the Dark Lord would attend once he was summoned?

They landed rather roughly, in a narrow corridor which was dimly lit. Jason produced his wand at once, but let out a breath he was holding. There were no Death Eaters waiting for them, wherever this was.

"Bloody hell what did you do?" Jason hissed, rounding on his boyfriend.

"Jesus Christ, it... I didn't expect... Jason... listen to me. We're in the payload. The bomb," said Mace, seriously.

"How-"

"We've got about two or three minutes at most. Listen." Sure enough, Jason could hear someone speaking, although it was hard to make out what was actually being said.

"You owe me an explanation, Mace. I mean it. Where would they be?"

"This way." Jason shivered, feeling the chilly air, and dispelled the cooling charm he'd placed on himself, but quickly caught up. The room was enormous, with shiny black walls, floors, and the ceiling, dimly lit by a few sparse lights. Jason could make out three people to one side of the room, and as they got close, one of them looked... wrong. More frightening, he or it had one of the others lifted off the ground, quite literally choking them with his bare hands.

"_Stupefy_!" Jason snapped, wand at the ready. The spell missed, and fizzled into the wall off in the distance. That, of course, was enough of a distraction for the second to grab the attacker's arm. The attacker simply hurled the person, a female crew member, off the side. She vanished out of sight.

"Cassie!" Mace immediately recognized her, but... she was gone.

"_Stupefy_!" Jason roared again, and once again, the assailant managed to duck the spell. However...

_KAWHACK_! Mace's aim was dead on, the icy projectile catching the assailant in the throat. He fell over almost in slow motion, releasing his victim, who collapsed in a heap.

"Capa?" Mace was at his side as fast as his legs would carry him. The guy was clearly in bad shape.

"M-mace? How?" Capa whispered. He looked gravely ill.

"The bomb. You gotta trigger the bomb. C'mon."

"Stomach... P-pinbacker got me good..." Capa wheezed, and tried to sit up.

"Fuck. Jason, help me, we gotta get him to the payload's controls. He's the only one who can do this."

"T-two minutes... we won't make it," Capa whispered.

"Like fuck we won't." Mace picked up the smaller man, and threw him bodily over his shoulder. "This way." Mace set off toward the opposite wall, and Jason could make out some sort of depression in the floor. He meanwhile started casting healing charms on the stranger.

"I could've levitated him in front of us," said Jason.

"No. Gotta save your magical reserves, remember? How'd that thing work before?"

"Twist the knob on the end. So that's what you did. What were you thinking of and doing just before it went off?"

"No, I didn't twist anything. I just... got thinking, what if we could save other people here. C-capa's face popped into my head, next thing we're being port keyed here."

"N-not making sense, Mace," said Capa, sounding a little better.

"Hold your questions," said Jason, and for the first time, the pair's eyes met. Jason immediately remembered his godfather, seeing Capa's mesmerizing blue eyes. Capa, meanwhile, had never seen such green eyes as those belonging to Jason. They were then travelling down a short ramp, and along a short corridor.

"Put me down," said Capa, "Open the unit case—that one, and put it on the floor so I can reach it." Mace put Capa down, while Jason pulled the case off of the pedestal, and put it within the guy's reach, then opened it. It contained a series of controls—switches, knobs, and dials. Capa was already manipulating those, obviously in some kind of sequence.

"Jason... the device," said Mace, "We'll have about thirty seconds once he finishes."

"How did you get here anyway?" Capa questioned, his eyes still fixed on the box he was operating.

"Long story. Guess my friend here missed you. We're all leaving once you're finished."

"Just about there." Jason happened to look up, to see a single spark bloom high above them... and then another... and another.

"Time to go. Capa... grab on," said Mace, offering a hand, while gripping Jason's shoulder. Capa grabbed it, and Jason twisted the knob on the hourglass, his home back in Ontario fixed firmly in his mind. They vanished in a whirl of black smoke.

Much to Jason's relief, they landed in a heap in his back yard. "Are you bloody mental?" he snapped, "We could've died!"

"HEY! I didn't expect it to actually go off, you know! I sure as hell didn't do this on purpose!" Mace snapped right back.

A new voice joined the argument. "Stop and explain what the FUCK just happened." Capa sat on the ground, looking completely confused. "Better question, you got some sort of first-aid kit?" He ripped open the armoured vest he was wearing, to expose a very serious wound across his abdomen.

"Merlin's pants. Kreacher!" Jason shouted. The old elf appeared with his customary noisy pop. "I need Essence of Dittany, right away." The elf bowed and popped away.

"Mace... go floo _Upper Canada Hospital_, tell them we need a healer here immediately."

"Got it." Mace scrambled to his feet, and tore into the house.

"What... I'm dead... gotta be dead," Capa muttered.

"Trust me, you're not. I'm Jason, by the way." He offered a hand.

"Capa." They shook. "What... how... where am I, guess that's the best question."

"This is my place. We're a few miles away from a small place called Port Stanley, on the north side of Lake Erie. Thanks to your friend here, we were teleported to you." With a pop, the elf was back, and he held out a small brown bottle.

"Thank you, Kreacher." As the elf bowed and popped away, Jason vanished Capa's shirt, exposing his torso, and the terrible injury. "How'd this happen?"

"Pinbacker... the guy who had me by the throat... slashed me with a scalpel—ow!"

"Sorry." Jason was applying the solution with the dropper included with the lid, and the wound was knitting itself. It would do, but the healers would be able to do a better job.

"How's he doing?" Mace had reappeared, along with a short witch wearing the lime-green robes of a healer.

"Essence of Dittany," said Jason.

"I'm Healer Linda. What happened?"

"Sliced open with a Muggle surgical tool," said Jason, as the healer knelt beside Capa.

"The only injury?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am," Capa answered, still looking very confused. He got a further shock, as the woman drew a small stick, and began making a series of motions with it. He felt himself tingle for a moment.

"You've suffered from lack of oxygen... nearly twenty-four hours."

"Um... difficult to explain."

"I'll take it from here, Mr. Black."

"Right." Jason stopped applying the Essence of Dittany, and stepped back. The healer, meanwhile, set to work, rapidly healing the gaping wound. Jason was amazed at how quickly she worked, and within only minutes, it was as if the injury had never happened. She cast a few more diagnostic charms to be sure she hadn't missed anything.

"Thank you for your help, Healer Linda."

"Not a problem, Mr. Black."

"I'll lead you back to the floo, then." Jason led the healer back into the house. Mace, meanwhile, offered a hand. "Let's go inside... got a lot of explaining to do."

"Yeah... no doubt." Capa looked completely bewildered at what was going on, but he took the offered hand, and was helped back to his feet.

They met Jason at the door.

"Right. Let's go sit down. And since you made this mess, Mace, you can explain things." Jason was clearly still unimpressed with what just happened. Mace narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, but softened. It was true, after all. Intentional or not, he'd been the one to touch the object and cause their unexpected trip back to the Icarus II.

"You were dead, though," said Capa, "I went by you, you were a block of ice!"

"He wasn't quite," answered Jason, as they took seats in the living room. Kreacher produced a platter of snacks, as well as a few bottles of Muggle beer. Mace had been unimpressed with Butterbeer, and somehow coaxed the old elf into keeping 'stronger stuff' stocked.

"What... exactly is he?" Capa dared ask, watching the elf patter back into the kitchen.

"He's a house elf, and someone I now call a friend. I'll properly introduce you to him later."

"Amazing. Never saw something like that before. But seriously. Mace, you were dead. I'm sure of it."

"Would've died, if Jason hadn't shown up. You were already gone by then, but... he hauled my ass out of the coolant tank, fixed my leg, now here we are."

"By that thing you're holding." Capa gestured to the hourglass, still in Jason's hand. Interestingly, it had a red glow to it.

"This saved both our asses, actually... and now yours. Still don't know what it's for exactly."

"Time travel," said Mace.

"Not."

"No, seriously. We were on the Icarus II for three, maybe four days... memory's a little messed up on that one, but come on. The bomb would've been triggered long before we left the ship."

"All right, all right, I concede. Fuck, if the Ministry ever caught wind of what we did, we'd all end up in Azkaban, I think."

"Wizard prison," said Mace, seeing Capa's strange look.

"As in witches and wizards."

Jason only smirked, drawing his wand. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," He intoned, giving the wand a swish and a flick toward the platter of treats. It instantly lifted off the table, to hover in the air.

"And if that doesn't fuck you up..." Mace smirked, producing a wand of his own. "_Lumos_." The tip lit up, while Jason cancelled his own charm, letting the platter float back down to the table top.

Capa sat there, stunned. Real magic! Stuff that defies the very edicts of science itself! The possibilities threatened to run away with him. Even after Mace ended the light coming from the end of his wand, he could still see it, like a ghost, blowing holes in everything he knew. And...

"How? Fuck, Mace, you've been keeping a lot of secrets, then."

"He found some sort of book that came with this device. It somehow gave him the ability to use magic—normally something not possible. I'm still not even sure of how it worked. A person normally has to be born with a magical core. Merlin, you shouldn't know about us as it is... but too bad... if you two are friends..." Jason pinched the bridge of his nose again. His boyfriend had really stepped in it in a way. There would have to be a floo call to Sandra in the morning.

"You really thought of me when you... um... set that off." Capa pointed to the device now resting in Jason's lap.

"Yeah." Mace felt his face get rather hot, and Jason smirked, knowing what his mate was feeling.

Capa, though, seemed to be oblivious. He ran a hand through his hair and said, "God, so much bullshit though. Why me?"

"I dunno, just... I missed you the most."

Capa arched an eyebrow. "For real? Sure didn't act like that earlier, before, um..."

"Yeah, I was a dick. Guess being away from the shit that was going on, being here, being with Ha—Jason here, you don't realize things until it's too late, right? I think we were all crazy at the end of it, each in our own way."

"I guess." Capa leaned back on the couch. "Searle was a little obsessed with staring at the sun, and I mean... I think Cory was already dead, after the Oxygen Garden was destroyed. I think Cassie was the sanest of us all, really. Though she did like to tune us out and fall into her books a lot."

"And you obsessed over the payload."

"Like you and the mainframe."

"Right, yeah... true." Mace cracked a smile for the first time since much earlier in the evening. "Eighteen months stuck together with each other... we drove each other crazy." Mace felt like he was talking to a ghost at this point. "I'm sorry... for being such a jackass to you at times."

"It's all right... everything got done in the end, didn't it? I guess the big question is, what now?"

"For now, you still look like death warmed over," said Jason, "Come with us, I'll show you to a spare room. You can get some sleep, and we'll chat more in the morning."

As the pair climbed into bed, Jason wasted no time pulling his boyfriend close. "First thing that went through my mind, when I realized we were being port keyed somewhere... I thought Death Eaters had found us. I know you didn't trigger this thing on purpose, but please... be careful. There are so many things out there that are a hell of a lot more dangerous than this is."

"Yeah... serves me right... know the old expression though... curiosity killed the cat."

Jason let out a giggle at the visual that presented itself. "Merlin... how true is that?" He thought for a moment, then said, "I'm calling Bill over tomorrow, gonna get him to set up some wards on the property. After you scared me half to death, it did get me thinking. If they ever figure out where we live, they could show up here by port key... send us a port key in the mail that is activated by touch... it's just too easy, and too open right now."

"The fireplace... they could come through that way too, right?"

"Exactly. Bill's a curse breaker and a warder, so he can help set up security here." He let out a yawn. "Let's get some sleep."

During breakfast the following morning, both Jason and Mace filled Capa in exactly what sort of world he now found himself in. It included a rather detailed tale of how Jason came to be on the Icarus II—Jason had briefly pulled the hourglass out just to show it, and hastily put it away, to, in his words, "Avoid further incidents." there were also several visits into the pensieve—Capa was amazed at power of the device, and the possibilities for its use.

* * *

Exiting the pensieve after viewing the last memory, Capa felt his face getting very hot, and it felt like... a stone had fallen into the bottom of his stomach. Now, seeing Mace and the young wizard together, everything made sense... and somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt like he'd been left behind. A small part of him was screaming, "That should've been me!"

He mentally sighed. No. It wasn't meant to be. There had been no time for love on board the Icarus II, no matter how much the temptation had been there. That small part of him now wished they'd not come back for him, and allowed him to burn up with the stellar bomb he'd created. For now, he would be reminded of something he could have had... and an opportunity missed.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So yeah, Capa makes a return to the living, so to say. It just felt appropriate. Mace will certainly make mistakes, and this one's rather tame, compared with ideas I do have. If anything, this one gets him a friend back—let's face it, the two of them do have a ton of respect for one another, among other things. As to how Capa will fit into the new world he finds himself, we'll have to wait & see—and no, he will not become a wizard. That's a one-off thing, I think. But of course, it doesn't make him any less useful, the man is absolutely brilliant, right?_


	11. Black v Daily Prophet

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted May 31, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 11-**

**BLACK V THE DAILY PROPHET**

* * *

By lunch time, Jason had spoken to both Sandra and Bill. Bill was in the middle of a rather complex job at Gringotts, but he would floo over once he was done. Sandra, however, was free, given she had effectively cleared her calendar at this point. Jason now made up the bulk of her case load.

So, immediately following lunch, the floo fired, expelling Jason's solicitor. Following the voices, she stepped into the living room.

"Sandra... 'afternoon," Jason greeted.

"Likewise." She appraised the additional person sitting across from Jason and Mace. "You must be Capa."

"Robert Capa, ma'am."

"Sandra Fraser. Jason's likely explained so, but I am his attorney."

"Yes, he's explained a bit of it."

"First question then..." she looked at Jason and Mace. "How'd he get here?"

"Care to take a trip into the pensive? I think Mace here will be the one to share the memory this time, since this was his doing, intentional or not."

"I did apologize."

"Yeah, I know." Jason squeezed Mace's forearm, while summoning the pensieve from a wall cabinet in the corner. That action was not lost on Capa, he was still being thrown for a loop learning that magic was a very real thing. Mace was already drawing a memory from his temple, and as the pensieve came to rest on the coffee table, he dropped it into the swirling liquid. "You need one of us to come along?"

"No, I think I'll be all right seeing this on my own." Sandra took a seat on the couch beside Capa, then placed a finger in the liquid. She froze.

"Weird seeing that," said Capa, shaking his head.

"...Think we really need to find out how this thing works, 'fore we end up somewhere much more dangerous," said Mace.

"Yeah, agreed. Well... first time I landed on the Icarus II, the sand started sifting through from the top to the bottom—like how an hourglass is supposed to work. I still had it in my hand, and was thinking 'how long'. It threw up a visual counter for a moment or two."

Mace furrowed his brow, then reached into Jason's pocket, pulling out the strange device.

"Hey!"

"Give me a sec." Then, focusing on the object, he thought, 'What are you?'

The world fell away, much like entering a pensieve.

"Mace?"

"I just had a hunch. Look." The space they'd entered was white-walled, much like the Earth room on board the Icarus II. Jason, of course, had seen it, although not in operation. Now, though, the walls were filling with moving pictures of the device, including a looping video showing Jason's first activation of it. There was also a short clip of when Mace activated it.

"Looks thought-based."

"Yeah, exactly."

"So it means... Merlin! I could go back and save Sirius! And Cedric... and..."

"Jason..."

"No... it makes perfect sense. You got your friend back with this, so it only makes sense I can do the same, right?"

"Do you realize how fucked up and twisted that is? Those people are gone. Blunt and cold as it sounds, you've moved on, right? You cried over their loss, but you've moved on. Going back with this thing, it's only gonna tear all that open again. What if it doesn't work? I don't really want to deal with an insane boyfriend, right?"

Jason smiled weakly. "Mace. I'm already insane-" He stopped, seeing another short clip. This one showed the incident in the department of mysteries four years prior, with a small alteration. This time, rather than Sirius falling into the cursed veil, he simply vanished, as if he'd been apparated away. "The proof. Look."

Mace blew out a breath and furrowed his brow. Jason was downright stubborn when he set his mind to do something. "I think you need to talk to Sandra before you do anything."

"I guess." Jason let out a smirk, though. "If we do this though... you think you've seen _my_ anger? Sirius will make me look tame in comparison, when he finds out what Dumbledore did to me."

With a simple thought, the pair were back in the living room of the house. It was as if they'd not left at all. Capa, of course, knew something had happened, and posed the question.

"Just discovered a few more things about the hourglass," answered Jason, "Since Mace was able to get you back, I think I might be able to get my godfather back, maybe someone else as well."

"You're talking about time travel."

"Exactly. Trust me, it's for real," said Jason, with a grin, "One of my best friends was doing it for the entire school year my third year." He went to put the hourglass back in his pocket, but Mace stopped him.

"Jason... there was more sand in it than this."

"What?" Jason tapped the hourglass with his wand, restoring it to full size. Sure enough, there was only half the sand left in it.

"This thing's like a get-out-of-jail-free card. It's likely only got a few more uses, so you can't be using it on stupid things-"

"Oh, so you think Sirius' death was stupid, or Cedric's-"

"I didn't mean it that way! Christ's sake you're being fucking stupid," Mace shot back angrily, "Think about it!"

Jason huffed, and shrunk the device down again, then stored it in his pocket. Mace of course was right. He might have phrased it differently, but the point was right. The device had allowed him to escape from Azkaban, and put him on the road to clearing his name. It had saved Mace and Jason both from freezing to death on a crippled spacecraft. So yeah. Emergencies only. "Sorry. Didn't mean to yell."

"I know your godfather and Cedric meant a lot to you, Jason. But really. Only use it if there's no other choice."

Further conversation was interrupted, as the floo fired, and Ty stepped out of the roaring fire. He spelled his clothes clean. "Afternoon, everyone. Thought you should see this." He passed a copy of the National Wizards' Standard to Jason.

A picture of the building housing the Daily Prophet filled the top portion of the front page, with several inset photos of important staff members of said paper lining the edges of it. One of them featured Rita Skeeter, looking very much out of sorts, somewhat resembling someone who'd just ate several very sour lemons.

_BRITISH WIZARDING NEWSPAPER FACING LAWSUIT_

_Black Opens Legal Proceedings For Defamation of Character, Slander_

_Jeff Murphy, International Wizarding Press_

_In a startling motion, the solicitor representing Harry Potter, now known as Jason Black, has opened up a series of legal proceedings against the Daily Prophet, England's Wizarding newspaper, citing defamation of character, slander, and libel, in reaction to a series of scathing articles that were published by the paper recently. _

_The proceeding has named reporter Rita Skeeter directly, along with a number of other senior staff members of the paper, citing it was their responsibility to ensure what was printed in the paper was truthful reporting, rather than content made of fantasy and conjecture._

_Mr. Black is seeking 10 million Galleons in compensation from the paper, along with a front page written apology for undue stress and emotional duress caused by the untrue content published by the paper. A spokeswitch... -continued on page 4._

_Excerpt from content at the source of the the suit, page 5.  
Potter versus the Daily Prophet, a time line, page 5.  
Profile, Rita Skeeter, page 6.  
The Daily Prophet: Independent reporting, or Government mouthpiece? Editorial, Page 6._

"Right. That just made my day," Jason grinned, handing the paper over to Mace. "It should make her think twice about raising her poisoned pen at me ever again."

"What kind of poison pen?" Capa dared ask. He stared at the paper, seeing the moving images.

"Jason's got a lot of enemies," Mace answered.

"Yes, and he's making a few of them squirm today. Still waiting on some sort of statement from the Prophet, and we should hear from the Wizarding Court within the next few days about a hearing," said Ty. He appraised the stranger in their midst, then offered a hand. "Ty Waterhouse. One of Sandra's assistants."

"Robert Capa." They shook hands.

"You're the one Jason was talking about then."

"I guess. Still really in the dark though. This is just... beyond anything I ever imagined."

"At least you're not dropped in the middle of things not knowing anything," said Jason, with a frown, "Shit, I landed on the Icarus II not knowing anything. Completely alone."

"Conceded."

At that point, Sandra at last exited the pensieve. She gave Mace a pointed look, but softened. "All right. What do you want to do?"

"Protection. Just like Mace already has," said Jason, quickly.

"And you're strictly not magical."

"No—yes—I guess, I mean, not magical. Shocked me that Mace can do it," said Capa, shaking his head.

"We can file for Canadian citizenship then, so everyone's on the same page."

"But..."

"Makes it simple. We're in a different world, Capa. Don't you feel it?" Mace questioned.

"Right... all right, fine. We'll do it that way."

"It shouldn't take long then."

That wasted the afternoon, as Sandra had Capa fill out a set of forms which would make him a Canadian citizen, in both the Muggle and magical world. Even though he was a Muggle, he was a part of Jason's circle at this point, and Sandra wanted to be sure all the T's were crossed and the I's dotted. It was decided Capa would pose as Mace's cousin, who had lost his family to Death Eaters. This sort of thing was most certainly happening at the present, and it made sense family would want to look out for one another.

Bill arrived just after dinner, and after meeting the new member of the household, and a brief conference on what was needed, he set about erecting a strong set of wards around the property, and the fireplace. When done, no one would get onto the property without alerting Jason about it, since the wards were directly tied to him, being the property owner. There was an anti-apparition ward erected, with exceptions being those put on the white list. An intent ward was also erected, preventing anyone with ill intent from stepping onto the property. A ward was also put on the fireplace, also tied to the white list. Only those with permission could actually come through, and it was also governed by the intent ward. So, no snatching the occupants through the floo network.

Given Jason already had a little bit of training on how to manipulate the wards, it took him no time at all to grasp the concepts again. The wards simply settled into the back of his mind, there, but not, much like the wards on Grimmauld Place had. The wards there had been disabled some time ago, given the place had been once again placed on the market. Word was, it was then down to a bidding war between four interested parties, and the sale could go through any day now.

* * *

_August 21, 2000_

Jason blew out a breath as he and his mate parked themselves in comfortable deck chairs under the gazebo they'd bought a while back, with Capa quickly following. He had not taken long to adjust to the new world and the household he now belonged to.

It had been another victory that day, as Jason at last had his day in court, facing the owners and the editors of the Daily Prophet. It had been a rather one-sided debate, with Sandra blowing holes in the paper's defence. After all, the answer "_...but everyone knows how much of a liar Mr. Potter is..._" just doesn't cut it. It was a cop-out, and Sandra called it exactly that.

The three-judge panel wasn't too impressed either, as Sandra passed up plenty of evidence in the form of past copies of the dubious paper for their reading pleasure. The defending attorney attempted to have such evidence discounted, citing inflammatory testimony, but the judges allowed it, agreeing with Sandra's point, "It goes to character."

In the end, the panel agreed with Jason, and awarded the full damages. They also warned the paper, that any further violations toward the injured party could result in international sanctions against the paper, since the results of the proceeding would be filed with the ICW.

"I think I'll make sure to be up a little early, so we can see what tripe the Prophet will come up with."

"That Skeeter woman looked like she'd just swallowed the sickest, nastiest potion you can come up with, I think. Thought she was gonna pass out for a minute," Mace agreed.

"God forbid, she actually has to write stuff about me that's true. Oh, the shame of it!" said Jason, dramatically. He smirked and said, "Of course the lot of them are all a little lighter in the wallet now. Hopefully it'll make her think twice about using a quick-quotes quill during an interview."

Capa shook his head. "Still blows my mind your magical country has no libel laws or shit like that."

"Trust me, I think their world's still stuck in the Victorian era or something. Outdated by at least a hundred years," said Mace, as he and Jason pulled their chairs closer together.

"The problem is all their laws are being made up by the pureblood minority. So nothing really changes. And point blank, at this point that's why I have no interest in helping deal with Voldemort. Someone else will just take his place. If Wizarding England burns, then so be it. It's no great loss. I'll collect everyone who means anything to me... those willing to fight alongside me rather than hide behind the hero image they have of me."

"You mean the Weasleys," Mace guessed.

"Yeah. Fred, George, Bill, and their parents. I hear Luna and Neville became an item a while ago, but... them too. Be a shame to pull him away from Hogwarts. Hear he's being groomed to take Professor Sprout's place as Herbology professor." He smirked a moment. "Merlin... I think Professor Snape'll have a stroke, having to work with him as a colleague."

"Your former, uh, Potions professor," Capa remembered.

"That's right. Neville's Boggart is—or was—Professor Snape."

"What's a Boggart?" came two identical questions.

"Oh... never told you guys about those." Jason took out his wand. "_Accio_ pensieve."

The memory shared had both Mace and Capa laughing, considering Jason also shared the memory of his first potions class. Seeing the sour professor dressed in an older woman's clothes, complete with ungodly hat and handbag was precious to say the least.

Jason turned serious. "A Boggart takes the form of your worst, deepest fears. Mrs. Weasley was traumatized by one before my fifth year, back when we were trying to clean Grimmauld Place. Upset her terribly. It's not my place to tell what it was she saw, but it was truly awful, and very personal."

"What... what would yours be?"

"It was a Dementor last time I encountered one. Now, I dunno. Remus thought it would be Voldemort, y'know, because of this and all..." Jason pushed the hair away from the infamous scar. "But really, I'm not afraid of him. Remus thought the Dementor symbolizes fear itself, but i dunno."

Mace leaned back in his chair, thinking. What would his be? What did he fear above all else? He shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind. The conversation was dark as it was.

Jason was quick to pick up on this. "Here. I'll show you a much more pleasant memory." He collected the memory floating around in the swirling mess, and put it back where it belonged. He then drew out another silvery strand, and dropped it in. "Stick a finger in, guys."

They had fallen into what looked to Capa like an enormous hall of sorts, with enormous rafters stretching skyward like that of a cathedral. Mace had already seen this particular room, of course, but the configuration had changed. In place of the four long tables, were rows and rows of desks, each being occupied by a student. Mace quickly spotted Jason and his friends. A sign up at the front of the room identified what was going on: ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVELS, CHARMS. The silence was virtually deafening, save for the scratching of quills to parchment.

The silence was broken by some sort of bang outside the room. The pink-clad professor frowned a moment, then stepped off the dais, clearly with the intention of investigating the noise. It came again, and Umbridge picked up the pace, clearly upset at this disturbance to the order of things.

They followed her as she stepped out into the corridor, where several more bumps and bangs were heard. The woman frowned again, still baffled by the strange noise. And then... a single spark of light sizzled from nowhere, hovered in front of Umbridge's face for a moment, zipped into the great hall, and went off with a noisy pop.

An instant later... WHOOSH! They actually came down the stairs, on their brooms! The twins blasted straight into the enormous hall filled with students and desks and papers, and set off FIREWORKS. INSIDE. It was a cacophony of noise, given the closed nature of the space, and papers and students were scattered in all directions. The twins hovered at the centre of the room for a moment.

"Ready when you are!" said one, the other holding something in his hand. He let it fly.

"Look out," Jason whispered, as the trio stood at the doorway. The twins soared out overhead, while the object exploded in a brilliant shower of sparks and lights, then changed to form the head of a rather angry dragon. It seemed to have a mind of its own, or perhaps one target, the nasty pink teacher. It chased her from the room and engulfed her in a fiery blast which sent dozens of fireworks toward a number of plaques nailed to the wall just outside. That sent the whole mess crashing to the floor, and left a very singed High Inquisitor behind.

The show was not over, however, as Jason led his two friends outside, following the rush of students as they burst out into the courtyard, the scene of another pyrotechnics display courtesy of the twins, as they soared off out of sight. It looked like the entire population of the school had been attracted by the commotion, and most gave the fleeing perpetrators a standing ovation for their bravado. Jason actually burst out laughing, seeing Professor Flitwick's little fist-pump. The pint-sized professor was actually impressed by his students' efforts. Of course, the question was, by what? The execution, or its target?(1)

He was still laughing as they were all ejected from the pensieve.

"What?" Mace dared ask.

"Did you see Professor Flitwick's reaction?"

"The really short guy," Mace guessed.

"Right. See at the time, I was getting a nasty vision from Voldemort, so I didn't notice—that's why the memory's a little cloudy at the end. Still gotta wonder. Was he impressed at the twins' skill, or with what they'd just done to Umbridge?"

"Maybe it was both. After what you've told me about the woman, I'm surprised she didn't have more to say at your hearing."

"Knowing the Minister, he probably ordered her to keep her mouth shut. All in all it doesn't matter. I'll have a go at her eventually." Jason leaned back in his chair, and snaked an arm around Mace's shoulder. "Here and now, I'm in a better place than I was. I got you guys, my best friends back, a brilliant solicitor... much easier to sort those people out."

He spoke the truth. The weekends were always more than crazy at the Black residence. It was a virtual guarantee Ron and Hermione would be over for a visit sometime during the weekend. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were a sure bet on Sundays, given they lived alone now. Bill was also a usual visitor, resulting in a rather boisterous Sunday dinner.

Most weekdays, a mind healer from Upper Canada Hospital would visit, to teach Jason Occlumency. It had rapidly expanded to include Mace as well, given their intimate relationship. In the few weeks they had been meeting, Jason was already miles ahead of where he'd been after an entire term of being virtually assaulted by Professor Snape.

Three times a week, an instructor from the Ministry's Department of Magical Transportation visited, providing Apparition lessons. Of course, the Ministry instructors didn't come cheap, but Jason was only happy to pay for them. Somehow he knew, back in England, they wouldn't give him the time of day, let alone one-on-one instruction. In retrospect, fleeing to Canada had been one of his brighter ideas.

The rest of their day was a combination of business and pleasure, as Jason proved to be a more than adept teacher, covering the lower year material. He even dared delve into the subject of potions, having collected the appropriate books. Sandra had been more than helpful, contacting the Professor who taught the subject at Upper Canada Academy. The professor was more than helpful, sending along an appropriate book list. Jason was somewhat pissed when the books arrived—he'd ordered the entire set from _Riggs & Tattwen_, a Wizarding bookstore in Toronto. The set included a most informative primer which detailed hundreds of different potions, their ingredients, interactions, antidotes, helpful tips on brewing, and a host of other information. He quite literally reeled off some rather colourful language as he flipped through it for the first time. It seemed like the type of text book every first year should be equipped with from the start!

Professor McGonagall had sent along a sixth year booklist by the middle of August, along with his O.W.L. Results. He found it rather interesting that he'd been graded, given he'd already been sent to Azkaban by the time the results would have been mailed out. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he opened the parchment.

_ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS  
_

_Pass Grades:  
Outstanding (O)  
Exceeds Expectations (E)  
Acceptable (A)  
_

_Fail Grades:  
Poor (P)  
Dreadful (D)  
Troll (T)_

_HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS ACHIEVED:_

_Astronomy: A  
Care of Magical Creatures: E  
Charms: E  
Defence against the Dark Arts: O  
Divination: P  
Herbology: E  
History of Magic: D  
Potions: E  
Transfiguration: E (2)_

Jason simply folded the parchment back up and nodded. Seven O.W.L.s. Hermione had likely gotten twelve or something like that. But in the end it didn't matter. Jason knew he would likely be able to do just about whatever he felt like. It wasn't like it was going to his head, but his name carried a lot of weight. Never mind the fact he was an incredibly wealthy man. If he chose to, he could do absolutely nothing, and still be well off for the remainder of his life—not that he would actually do that. That would only serve to prove his useless relatives right. Not to mention, he would likely go off the deep end, sitting around with nothing to do all day.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: (1) This has to be my favourite scene out of "Order of the Phoenix". Of course I use the movie version of events here, as it was much more colourful in my opinion._

(2) _Taken from p.100, "Half Blood Prince", Canadian soft cover edition. Some people tend to manipulate his OWL scores in their fanfics, I believe in keeping it Canon here, these are the scores JKR assigned, so that is what I work with._


	12. The Power He Knows Not

The Power He Knows Not

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted June 7, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 12-  
THE POWER HE KNOWS NOT**

* * *

_August 31, 2000  
Knockturn Alley_

A hooded figure stepped into a small apothecary and potion supply store. It was well known to stock potions and items that were shady in nature, good for doing nefarious things. The figure walked up to the counter, and seeing the gungy man behind the counter sorting through a pile of books, the person cleared their throat.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. Polyjuice potion. Enough for eight hours," the cloaked figure, a woman, all but demanded.

"Right, of course." The man ducked behind the counter a moment, then reappeared, with a larger, grey-coloured bottle. "It'll be three hundred galleons, miss."

The woman almost choked out loud. Of course she knew it was going to be expensive, but... "Very well." She reached into her robe, and pulled out a large sack of coins, and began to count them out. 'You might be a fop, Harry Potter, but you'll still be mine, one way or another!', she hissed in her mind, 'Just one more potion, and perhaps pay Dean a visit... or maybe Seamus. Seamus is a better bet, a little more fun under the covers. Maybe give him enough firewhiskey and he won't even know the difference!' She left the shop three hundred galleons lighter, and a devious smirk plastered on her face. Yes, that night would be a memorable one for her indeed! And, perhaps, by that time next year, the boy of her dreams would be hers just as well. A nice, cozy, happy family—that pathetic Muggle-born hanging on his arm be damned.

* * *

The end of August brought with it the harvesting machinery to Jason's property, collecting the hay which had matured over the summer, leaving a barren landscape behind it. Not long after the deed had been settled, a farmer a few miles down the road had contacted Jason, explaining how he had paid for the rights to mow and collect the tall grass growing on his property and use it for animal feed over the winter months. Naturally, Jason had agreed to such an arrangement. It was a little extra money, but nothing extraordinary, and if someone else got use out of the tall grass, so be it.

So, for a few days during the last of the month, the magical activity outside had to be kept to a minimum during the day, while the farmer and his field hands went to work. Doing any sort of studying inside was also rather difficult at the moment, since Capa had commandeered the living room for his own study and preparation—he had been hired at the _University of Waterloo, _assigned to the Faculty of Science and Technology. Jason had to smirk at that. The man would be teaching there within months, quite possibly weeks.

The final day of August, however, marked the end of the job. The farmer had filled one of the barns with hay, as had been the practice in years past. Once again Jason had no problem with that continuing, seeing it get used, rather than it being left to rot. With that job now done, the fields fell empty of human activity, although the local bird population, as well as the rodent population, were both having a field day, feasting on the seeds and other remnants left over from the process. No doubt, the food chain was being well-satisfied. Jason thought he saw a glimpse of Hedwig several times during the day, swooping down on the over-fed mice scurrying around the fields.

Late afternoon, with the abbreviated lessons over with, Jason decided he'd more than earned a broom ride, and Mace wasn't about to be left behind. They left the ground sending a swirl of dust up at the house, although it was Jason doing the flying this time. They tended to alternate, with Jason being almost as reckless as Mace was. Jason smirked, remembering the first time he'd demonstrated the Wronski Feint. They had been flying out over the lake, and it was a good thing, as Mace had almost fallen off the broom.

That afternoon's flight involved the out-and-back over the lake, and several circuits of the property. He then swung around and they did a much slower tour of the small creek which cut through the property. That led back up to a pond and a small marsh, and a straight line back to the house.

At least that was the plan. As they came up to the edge of the marsh, it was a case of bad timing. A large grey squirrel happened to leap across the gap as the pair blasted by, and landed on Jason's head. Mace made a grab for the errant rodent, but the damage was done. Startled by the unexpected passenger now tangled in his hair, Jason lost control of the broom. It rolled twice, pitched up once, and nose-dived into the pond, dumping two wizards and one frightened squirrel with an enormous splash.

The pair of them came up, coughing and sputtering, in waist-deep water. At first, Jason felt a wave of rage threatening to well up inside him. 'What the FUCK?' he shouted in his head. Then he heard laughter. Turning around, he found Mace laughing hysterically. He looked a complete mess, covered in mud from head to toe, pieces of twigs and other debris sticking in his short-cropped hair. A few leaves and muck was stuck on the collar of his shirt, and the white tee shirt he wore under it was anything but. It was rather funny... and he did look adorable.

"Maybe... maybe we should re-shoot that landing, Jason..." he finally managed, "I mean... heard of a bird strike before... never a squirrel strike, though." That was it. Jason lost it too, finally sinking to his knees as stars threatened to cloud his vision, he was laughing so hard.

He was startled when Mace grabbed him and flipped him over, dragging him under the water for a moment, but he quickly retaliated, and it became a very messy, soggy wrestling match between them. Mace was somewhat larger than Jason, and so he was a little more gentle, making it fair between them. Jason, of course, used the slick bottom to his advantage, and at least twice, the guy had stuffed a fistful of slick mud down Mace's shirt, and at least once down his pants. That made the guy actually yelp in surprise, and Jason smirked.

Finally wore out, the pair collapsed near the shore, Jason finally pinning his mate to the slick mud. The mess was oozing through their clothes, but neither of them cared at this point as Jason lay on top, so they were face to face again. The water was like soup, heated by the long hot days of summer, so getting cold was not a factor.

"You're so beautiful," Jason whispered, reaching a hand and brushing some of the debris out of Mace's hair. He didn't pull his hand away, but stroked his head, shivering as he felt the spiky short hair.

"So are you, Jason. God... you know I don't believe in God, but... fuck, every day... I'm glad we met. I ain't no Romeo, but y'know... if I died tonight, I'd die a happy man."

"Said it perfectly," Jason agreed, and their lips met briefly... and then again... and a third time. "Y'know, we could stay out here all night."

"Not."

"Why not?" Jason pouted.

"Even water this warm, we'll still get cold."

"Not if we do something a little more adventurous," Jason smirked.

Mace blinked.

"Jason..." He could feel Jason's hand, as it wormed its way in between them at crotch level. "Jason?"

"Mace. Fuck me."

* * *

Thousands of miles away, at a certain manor in Wiltshire, the Dark Lord was jerked out of sleep by a stabbing pain which raked across his body. Not quite as painful as the last time he'd felt such a thing, it was still rather painful. 'So. The little snot's found love, has he?' The Dark Lord snarled in his head, putting pressure on the connection he now shared with his nemesis. Perhaps it was time to block the connection, as to stop these rather uncomfortable attacks. It was unlikely the boy knew what he was doing, but he could take no chances.

* * *

Capa hadn't been too concerned about his friends going off on a broom together. He'd already seen that more than a few times since his arrival weeks before. No, nothing unusual about them being gone for the afternoon, and well past dinner. A broom meant they could end up tens or hundreds of kilometres away.

So, when it came time for dinner, he served himself, and politely asked Kreacher to just put warming and preservation charms on everything, as Jason had explained for him to do in the event they hadn't returned. The evening air was still warm, and so he took one of his textbooks with him out to the back porch, and claimed a chair there, content to study. The job required lots of preparation on his part, and it consumed most of his days as of late.

The sun was low on the horizon when Capa at last spotted his two friends, walking from the copse of trees to the south, up toward the house. It was odd, though. Usually, they would've just flown back. Had something happened? He put the book down, but then started. The two of them were walking dangerously close to one another, Mace with his arm slung over Jason's shoulder. Come to think of it, both of them were also walking rather funny. Jason had slung his broom over his opposite shoulder, and it looked as though they'd rolled around in a mud pit somewhere. They were plastered from head to toe in mud. It was... that was all there was to it, he burst into gales of laughter.

"We had a date with the pond," said Mace, dryly, as they got into earshot.

"A date with each other _in_ the pond more like it," Capa guessed, still amused at their appearance.

"No, Mace, it was a squirrel strike, remember?" They barely separated, and Jason set his broom down. One of the stirrups had been bent, a few of the bristles were snapped, and it was caked in mud, much like rider and passenger.

"Squirrel strike? Do I really want to know?"

"Later. C'mon, let's go get cleaned up. Could just charm it away, but I'd rather be sure," said Jason, casting a smirk Mace's way. Capa very quickly caught on to what he had in mind, and had to roll his eyes. Good thing the hot water was made through magical means.

Sometime later, the pair lay down at last, physically spent. They'd been in the shower for nearly an hour, and it certainly did not just involve getting clean. It was a good thing they had erected silencing charms on the bathroom.

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No, 'course not," Jason answered, as they again lay snuggled up against each other. "It was... to have you inside me... it was like seeing the twins' fireworks all over again, but just for my eyes only, my own private show. So no, it didn't hurt," Jason smiled. They lay so Harry was spooned up against Mace, the muscular man resting his chin on the other's cheek. As was typical, he also had an arm over Jason's smaller form, but now the pair interlocked fingers and hands together.

"Jesus... when we came off, I thought you were gonna explode, by the look on your face when you came up, right?"

"Felt like I was gonna explode. Then I see this adorable face, plastered with mud and shit, and it was just... beautiful... and comical, all at once. The first thought that came to my mind right then, was to topple you over and snog you senseless."

"Yeah, well, we did that anyway." Jason didn't need to see the guy's face to know he was smirking.

"I'm sure the wildlife got a wonderful show," Jason smirked right back. He let out a giggle. "Y'know... I've nearly been clubbed by a rogue bludger... nearly had my soul sucked out by a Dementor while flying... was nearly jinxed off my broom in first year... but this has to be a first... getting ambushed by an airborne squirrel."

"You're a target for misadventure, Jason."

"Oh Merlin, you couldn't have put it better. At least it was a soft landing this time." He let out a yawn. "Let's get some rest." He craned his neck so they could see each other. "I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

The Monday following Labour Day, Capa left the house, as he would have residence on campus. And so, at least for the time being, it was only Mace and Jason at the house. Ron had been hired by _Upper Canada Academy_ to work with the flying instructor, with the intention he replace the ageing teacher within a year or so. Madam Gauthier was turning a hundred and thirty eight in the spring, and was finding it more and more difficult to mount a broom, among other things. The elder witch was more than happy to have the young wizard take her place.

Given the move, it was no surprise Hermione would be joining him. They had already given last months' notice for their flat, and everything had been packed up and sent to Jason's. Jason had already fixed up and expanded one of the extra rooms, so the pair would have more room. It was no surprise the pair had wed a couple of years ago. He smirked to himself, thinking back on his musings not long after escaping Azkaban. So now the question: how long before a little witch or wizard comes along?

Neither Jason nor Mace had any regrets about not having children. There were more than enough other people out there, and with families like the Weasleys... loads of others were having children. The most famous boy in the Wizarding world not? Jason made no apologies.

No, children were not the end-all and the be-all to a relationship. Nor was intimacy, for that matter. The pair certainly had their share, now that the ice had been broken. It was as if they'd crossed a threshold, each feeling ensnared and hopelessly entangled by the other, and neither wished to escape. They completed each other. It was that simple.

With that change, and the further strengthening of the bond, Jason noticed something else. His Occlumency shields were strengthening. He was able to keep the teacher out for longer and longer periods, even with his stronger attacks. And Voldemort? Last time he heard a peep from the dark wizard, it had been sometime in August. His scar certainly still tingled, usually after the pair had been intimate, but that was about it.

At the same time, however, something else began to crop up, particularly after intimacy. Sometimes, Jason would feel a tremendous wave of rage flash through his mind. It felt—foreign. Something that was completely uncharacteristic given the circumstance, it made no sense whatsoever. The hostility was sometimes aimed at Mace, and again, it greatly confused the young wizard. It was the complete opposite emotion one should feel after being intimate with their partner, right?

The answer came the night of September 20, just before the Autumn equinox. The pair of them had just finished up in the shower, once again spending more time than should be allowed. As they got back to the room, towels wrapped around their wastes, Jason collapsed like a sack of potatoes, a white-hot stabbing pain piercing the spot where his scar was. And then, Mace saw it. A black shade poured out of the bleeding scar, wraith-like, smoke billowing out and around it.

"M-m-mace... R-RUN!" Jason croaked out, knowing and feeling something he'd only felt once before... back in the Chamber of Secrets a few years prior.

"RON! HERMIONE! IN HERE NOW!" Mace bellowed, instantly producing both his wand and putting the ice spike at the ready. What good it would do, he didn't know. The wraith had risen to tower over the muscular man, and even though it was a black silhouette, he knew he was looking at the embodiment of evil.

"Mace? What the?" Both Ron and Hermione skidded to a stop just inside the door, seeing the problem, which had nothing to do with Mace being stark naked in the middle of the bedroom.

"Ron! Get your brother now!" Ron didn't hesitate, but popped away with a noisy _crack_, as Hermione drew her wand. The shade was advancing on Mace at this point.

"Shield charm, like we showed you."

"_Protego_!" A blue shield shimmered into place, and Hermione duplicated his movement, producing one of his own.

"Silly girl," the shade hissed, "That will not protect you." A rake of the fingers, and the shield faltered. "You..." it rounded on Mace again. "Tormented me just about enough, foolish wizard!" his shield, too, was shredded in an instant.

KAWHACK! And the shade let out a terrible screech, as the frosty projectile seemed to burn it with cold.

"What magic is this?" the shade screeched, and Mace let fly with a second projectile. If it seemed to work, then so be it.

"Oh my god..." Bill had arrived, along with his younger brother. His wand was instantly out. Contingencies and scenarios flooded into his head. What the hell had they got themselves into now? Just figure out how to contain it. "_Expecto Patronum._" To his Patronus he spoke, "Stonewall, bring Galarek to the Black residence. Wraith present, possible Horcrux. Tools needed to banish or contain." It bound out the open window, and was gone.

KAWHACK! Mace had nailed the wraith again, making it screech. Bill trained his wand on it as well, producing a strong shield charm which shimmered red in front of them. He cast a worried glance at Jason, who was then out cold, blood oozing from his scar. What the hell had happened?

"Where'd it come from?"

"Harry—Jason, I mean!" Mace answered. He was shaking all over, and looked ashen, mortified and terrified at the demonic thing that was then in their bedroom. It kept leering at them, but the red shield was holding its own. The wraith could not shred it like he'd done the others.

And then. Two things seemed to happen at once. There were two distinct pops, announcing the arrival of two individuals. Mace had already seen goblins before, so it was no surprise. Only a split-second later, Fawkes arrived, in his customary blaze of golden flames. Seeing it, the wraith shrieked, since the phoenix carried a powerful effect that covered a substantial area. Fawkes lit over to his bonded, landed on his chest, and began to sing, the musical string of notes filling the room, quickly bolstering the light side. The wraith shrieked again, as its power was being dampened by the presence of the phoenix. It swooped down attempting to attack the bird, but another ice spike sent it reeling.

"You have no power here, wraith!" Bill spoke firmly, casting a cheering charm at it. Both Ron and Hermione copied the motion, and the wraith shrieked again, as the positive emotion tore into it. It was further assaulted with another ice spike.

Fawkes continued to sing, but as he did so, he also allowed a few tears to fall onto Jason's bleeding scar. It caused the wraith to let out another terrible shriek.

"Yeah, that's right. It hurts, doesn't it," said Mace, viciously, feeling much more confident at this point, "Harry's mine. He loves me, and I love him equally. Something you'll never understand, you fucking bastard." He sent one more ice spike, which nailed the soul fragment in the side of the head. It let out one more horrible shriek, and its remains seemed to shatter into a million pieces of ash and dust, left floating in the air.

"M-mace?"

"Jason..." Mace closed the distance, and quickly knelt by his side.

"What happened?"

"You... had that thing... it was inside you."

"Hell and damnation..." Bill muttered, as the gravity sunk in.

"I was... a Horcrux."

"Yeah... looks that way. Ron... go floo _Upper Canada Hospital_... or scratch that. We're going there I think."

"What would you like us to do, Mr. Weasley?" The goblin named Stonewall asked.

"Collect the remnants. I'll be needing to show them to a certain meddling fool. Sorry for interrupting your evening, I know your wives are probably rather unhappy right now."

"I'll cover any inconvenience," said Jason, "Th-thank you both for coming."

"It's a privilege, Mr. Black," answered the other goblin, as they made to collect the remnants of the shade. Jason, meanwhile, looked his mate up and down. He cracked a small smile. "Mace... you know you're buck naked, right?"

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So. One more Horcrux bites the dust. I would think, even though the container is alive, it is being filled constantly with the one emotion Voldemort cannot stand. Eventually, I think, it would attempt to attack the source of the problem, in this case, Mace. Unfortunately for it, there were too many weapons handy for them to use against it, and the fact that Mace gets his magical ability elsewhere, his magic can actually hurt the shade. Couple that with the power of the phoenix, it's a no-win situation for Mr. Horcrux._

_Now of course, to the beginning of the chapter. I think we can all figure out who the witch is, right? Needless to say, when Harry/Jason finds out, it's not gonna be pretty._


	13. Recovery and Progress

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_A double-dose this week! The regular chapter post will also come out tomorrow, so stay tuned. Also, a big Happy Birthday to Chris Evans, who turns 31 today. He played the role of Mace in "Sunshine".  
_

_Posted June 13, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 13-**

**RECOVERY AND PROGRESS**

* * *

Even with the early hour, Albus Dumbledore was still up and about, already at his desk. His days always started early, after all. It was just a little after 5 am local time, when the floo fired, and a rather irate red head appeared in the flames.

"Professor? Are you there?"

"William. What can I do for you, my boy?" the Headmaster greeted, crossing the floor.

"Did you know?"

"Did I know what?"

"That Jason was a Horcrux?" Bill's features were a mask of anger, even in the orange glow of the flames.

"Alas, I certainly considered the possibility. I suspect he has told you about the incident in the Chamber of Secrets seven years ago?" At Bill's nod, Dumbledore continued, "I suspected then, we were dealing with truly dark magic. At the conclusion of Harry's fifth year, I was all but certain of it. It is the reason Harry can connect with Voldemort, among other things."

"You mean, was. The bloody thing came out of him tonight, Dumbledore! Jason could have died! His mate could have died! WE could have died, because of your bloody secrets!"

Dumbledore was alarmed. A Horcrux leaving its container? That wasn't how those things worked... he was sure of it. "Where is Harry now?"

"_Upper Canada Hospital_... and quite frankly, you're the last person he will want to see." Bill's face vanished from the fire.

After a quick note was dispatched to McGonagall, the headmaster travelled by floo powder to the Ministry. He knew better than to just directly port key across the pond, considering Canadian authorities didn't like unannounced international port keys. After all, it was one of the reasons Canada hadn't been invaded by Voldemort—or any other dark wizard, for that matter. Harry fleeing to Canada was both a blessing and a curse in that way. He was inaccessible, to both the light AND the dark.

Just after 1:30 local time, Dumbledore arrived at _Upper Canada Hospital_ by floo powder, having first cleared the ministry using his ICW credentials. He approached the reception counter, which surprising had no queue. St. Mungo's always had a queue of people needing assistance. He cleared his throat.

"Yes?" questioned the bored looking witch behind the counter.

"Here to see Mr. Potter."

"Mr. Who?"

"Ah... Mr... Black, I mean," Dumbledore begrudgingly corrected himself.

"Very well. Fourth floor, room four sixty-eight," answered the witch, consulting a chart. Dumbledore's eyes flicked to the floor guide on the wall behind her. Of course it would be considered some sort of spell damage.

He'd been in _Upper Canada Hospital_ a few times, and always found it so much different than _St. Mungo's_ in London. Given the approach the Canadian Wizarding community took, always moving forward, it was in some ways unsettling. They embraced the advancement of technology, pushing a great number of Wizarding methods aside. The electric lights providing illumination in the hospital's corridors were a very prominent example of that. But the Wizarding community had it right here. Being a witch or a wizard was only a small part of who someone was, and with that acknowledgement, their society was in a much better place. Dumbledore knew the statistics on witches and wizards leaving England, and it was no surprise a good number of Muggle-borns had fled to Canada. In fact, if he had is information correct, the current Minister for Magic was a Muggle-born. He knew he would have a nearly impossible time convincing Harry to return to England.

Dumbledore arrived at the young wizard's assigned room, having passed two crimson-robed Aurors out by the healer's station. Most unusual, ministry security inside the hospital? He pushed the door open, and entered the room. A number of people turned around, hearing the door open. No surprise, the eldest Weasley was there, along with his parents. How had they managed to get international clearance so fast? He filed that away for later. The Granger girl was there—another stunning surprise, as was the youngest Weasley boy. Rounding out the visitors, the man he'd seen at Harry's hearing... Mace, if he remembered the name correctly, along with another man who he'd not seen before.

"I'm warning you, Dumbledore. Upset him an inch, you'll be leaving horizontal," Bill hissed.

"I am only concerned," Dumbledore answered, schooling his features. "I only wish to know exactly what happened. All of you realize, this is some truly dark magic at work."

"Yes, I know that headmaster. This is not the first one we've encountered, though for some reason I'm sure you already know."

"And I assume, now, the fragment has been destroyed."

"A combination of Fawkes, cheering charms, and Mace's, err... weapon, whatever it is he can do," answered Hermione, coldly. It was clear she was equally angry at the headmaster.

"Finally nailed it in the face, it blew into ashes," Mace finally added, scowling. "So tell me, old man. When would you have told him?"

"All in due time, my boy."

"Let's get one thing straight. I'm not your boy. Don't ever call me that, or I'll nail you again, and I promise you, it won't be in the arm next time," Mace said, dangerously, "So tell us again. When would you have actually been honest?" The door opened again, with Sandra and Ty entering the room.

"What happened?" Sandra asked, crossing the floor to look in on her client. In the dim light, he looked ashen, his cursed scar looking even more angry and unnatural than ever. The young man muttered something incomprehensible, shifted slightly, half-opened his eyes, then closed them again. She assumed he was likely dosed with several potions at this point, and wouldn't be answering any questions in person.

"Jason...had a Horcrux inside him. It was in his scar," said Mace, casting yet another withering glare toward the headmaster. "We were... we were in the shower and when we came out, he... he collapsed. Then this thing... this shade-like thing come out of his scar."

"Please tell me you killed it." Sandra looked horrified.

"It's gone. It turned to ashes when I nailed it with an ice shard. We were just asking the headmaster here if he was aware of it... and more importantly, when exactly he was going to tell Jason about it."

Mace smirked, as the attorney rounded on the ancient wizard. "Is this true, Dumbledore? You left a BOY to be tormented by something so foul and evil? Albus Dumbledore. You DISGUST ME!"

Dumbledore's features darkened, and he looked like he'd just swallowed several very sour lemons. Harry's solicitor knew exactly how to inflict the most emotional pain, and she'd done just that, as he felt like he were in a memory. Except that in that memory, it was he, saying the same thing to a certain potions master.

"I do have many regrets, Miss Fraser," said Dumbledore, quietly.

"No, only thing you regret, old man, is being caught," said Mace, acidly, casting yet another withering gaze toward the headmaster.

Hermione chose that moment to finally speak her mind on the matter. "We all _trusted_ you, Professor. How could you! How could you just throw Jason to the wolves as you did? And drag us down with him! I would've expected this sort of thing from Malfoy, but from you? I hope you're truly happy with yourself!"

"Headmaster. Get. Out," said Mace, getting up. He'd grown tired of the old man, and his normally soft eyes blazed with fury.

"I assure you..."

"Leave. 'fore I do something I won't regret." Several others stood up to back up Jason's mate, and Sandra actually drew her wand. Dumbledore sighed, and gave them all his patented 'I'm so disappointed' look, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Good riddance," Ron finally muttered.

"Now what exactly happened?"

"Bill... you know where Jason's pensieve is, right?" said Mace. Bill gave a nod, and left the room. "Rather than try and explain this shit... holy fuck..."

"Here. Calming draught," Hermione offered, digging in her bag.

"Thanks."

"And I thought our, um... adventures were crazy," said Capa, shaking his head.

"Strongly doubt anything you pair got up to could ever compare to the things Ron, Jason, and I got into," said Hermione, "Not one year got by without something outrageous going on."

"Doesn't help that he is You-Know-Who's number one target," Mrs. Weasley piped up.

"No, it doesn't," Hermione agreed, "But still. Until this summer, it's been nothing but a series of disasters, come to think of it."

"Including him meeting me and Capa," Mace agreed, furrowing his brow, "Not that I'd... want that not to happen... and Jason would agree."

"Yes, the pair of you are good for one another. There's been a couple of those incidents that did do some good... Sirius when he escaped back in our third year. Of course you know he was Jason's godfather."

"And the Tri-wizard tournament," Ron added, "I mean, at least part of it, Hermione!" His wife looked about ready to hex him. "Think about it. He met Cedric."

"Yeah. Jason's told me lots about him." Mace leaned back in his chair. "He still gets nightmares about him... but I think the, uh... Occlumency helps."

"It should. It's an advanced but useful kind of magic," said Ty, "All of us have to know it in order to protect attorney-client privilege."

Bill finally returned, bringing Jason's pensieve with him. He conjured up a small table, and set it down, while Mace pulled the appropriate memory from his mind. "I won't be coming with you. Shit's just too fucked up for me to see it again. Bad enough me having to pull it up."

"I'll go with them," Ron offered, "I was there for most of it."

When they returned, Sandra looked even more livid than she already was. Ty looked like he was going to be ill. Sandra took a seat in a conjured chair. "I'll put more pressure on the ICW to convene a tribunal. Dumbledore's really crossed a line this time."

"Where would they do it? The hearing?" asked Capa.

"It'll likely be held in Geneva, since that is the ICW's seat. If Jason wants, I could certainly file an application to have the tribunal held here in Toronto, but no promises."

"I'll ask what he wants," said Mace.

"Don't be surprised if this lays him out for a while," said Bill, "We fought truly dark magic tonight, the lot of us."

"Still feel like I need a shower." Mace reached up and rubbed the back of his head. "That thing, it felt... slick, oily, dirty."

"The nature of the dark arts. It goes away after a while. I've experienced that working in Egypt a few years ago. Nothing as dark as tonight, but stuff over there that could compare to it."

* * *

For the next week, Jason continued to suffer the effects of the soul fragment's attack, as did Mace, although nowhere near as severe. The pair cancelled the usual lessons, deciding it would be a waste of their time. The house itself better resembled a hotel for a while, as a crowd of people were constantly about, all concerned about their friend.

If anything, the crowd of friends around him helped, and by the following weekend, Jason was back on his feet. He was visited by a healer that Saturday afternoon, and given a clean bill of health, much to his relief. The remarks that he 'still needed rest' was starting to grate on him, causing him to be short with everyone, bordering on downright wasp-ish. Needless to say, as soon as the healer was gone, both Jason and Mace were gone on Jason's broom for the remainder of the afternoon.

Jason at last slowed down, as they pulled up through the small creek that crossed the property.

"God, I was going mad, I think."

"Agreed. Nope, definitely not astronaut material, Jason."

"Piss off." It was all in jest, though, and Mace knew it. Still, he gave his mate a good poke in the ribs.

"Hey!" Jason smirked, and rolled the broom, forcing Mace to grab onto Jason's waist before he fell off. And, even though they came up right again, Mace didn't let go, but simply put his head on Jason's shoulder. It was easy enough, considering he was easily a head taller than Jason was.

"At least you don't have that thing in your head anymore."

"Conceded. Y'know, I've not felt one single twitch in my scar since. I gotta wonder, if maybe that was why I could hear him, see what he was doing sometimes."

"Makes sense to me, as fucked up as that sounds. New meaning to hearing voices."

"Yeah, a bad thing no matter _which_ world you're from," said Jason, frowning. He brightened, and said, "It's one less problem. Just like the nightmares. Occlumency has really helped that too. I'm half-way back to being sane again." That earned a chuckle from his mate. "I only said half-way. Don't make me roll the broom again."

* * *

_October 2, 2000_

_ICW Judiciary Panel, Geneva, Switzerland_

"...so it is, I believe most imperative we move forward with this tribunal with a short date, seeing as the accused has committed most serious crimes against a number of individuals, my client among them."

"False imprisonment. That's a serious charge, counsellor," said one of the panel members. There were ten members of the panel, made up of magistrates from a number of Wizarding nations that made up the confederation. They had been picked of random, and as was the rule, given the fact the accused was English, no one from England was chosen to sit on the panel for the hearing.

"One of the lesser charges. Falsifying testimony in a trial, a trial which he participated in as a judge—or sat on, in the case of the English Wizengamot. Your honours, this is not the way a progressive Wizarding community conducts justice. It is time we as an international community show Wizarding Britain the error of their ways, and prevent travesties such as these from happening in the future."

"You also wish to have the location of the trial changed to Toronto. On what grounds?"

"I believe it may be better suited if the tribunal is seated in a nation outside of Europe, so the jury pool may be fair and impartial. It is a fair comparison to the fact no English judge sits among you."

"A fair argument, I do concede," said an ancient dark-skinned wizard down the row.

"Very well, counsellor, we have heard your application. We will take a moment to consider it." A silencing charm went up, and the group of judges congregated.

Nearly ten minutes later, the panel retook their seats, and the silencing charm was dispelled.

"Counsellor. We have considered the two applications before us. Since apposing counsel either deemed it unnecessary or not worth their while to appear in person, we find both arguments you have presented to be fair and compelling." The speaker waved her wand, and a stack of parchment lifted from a table just below the raised platform where the panel of judges sat, and floated over to Sandra. A second set of documents folded themselves up into a paper airplane, and zoomed out of the room. "The tribunal will convene at the Canadian Ministry of Magic in December of this year. A date and time will be announced as the parties involved are processed and notified. That is all."

"Thank you, your honours."

* * *

"Excellent, Mr. Black. And now if you'll pop back into the first circle." The Ministry Apparition instructor was a wiry, tall man with sandy hair and a tall face. Jason gave a slight shift, and vanished from where he was standing, with a very loud _crack_, to reappear in a hoop about a hundred feet away. The practice circles had been set up in the back yard. "Well done! And back to me!" _Crack_. Jason reappeared in the spot he'd just left. The instructor looked him over quickly, clearly proud of the young wizard. He'd picked up the concepts of Apparition rather quickly. "I believe you're ready for your exam, Mr. Black. Now if only your partner here could catch up."

Mace frowned at the jab at his ego. He understood the theory. Putting it into practice, however. At least a quarter of his Apparition attempts resulted in a splinching. Luckily at this point nothing too painful—usually a tuft of hair, a fingernail, the likes. The instructor was able to fix things quickly, but it did nothing to bolster the new wizard's ego.

Still, he was more than happy for his boyfriend. Apparition was a useful skill to have, but it wasn't the end of the world if Mace couldn't do it flawlessly. The lesson was over for the day, and the pair went inside the house with the instructor following, where lunch was already waiting.

"Shall I schedule an official Apparition test then?" the instructor asked.

"No. Not until—" Jason began.

Mace cut him off. "Yeah. Go for it, Jason. Don't let me hold you back."

"I wanted..."

"I know. Look, I'm still new at all this shit."

Jason blew out a breath. "Really wanted us to do this together, you know. Fine, all right." Disappointed, he glanced at the instructor. "Set up the exam then."

"We can probably get you in sometime early next week then. I'll still continue to come by just the same, see if we can't get Mr. Mace up to scratch."

A week later, on October 9, both Mace and Jason travelled by floo powder to the Ministry of Magic in Toronto, where Jason took his Apparition test. Once again bolstered by the presence of his boyfriend, he passed with flying colours. He was given a small card, much like one would receive in the Muggle world on passing their driver's test. Jason celebrated this milestone by Apparating them both to a rather expensive little restaurant in London (Ontario, not England, just to be clear). The restaurant staff almost threw them out considering their appearance, but the presentation of several large denominations of currency very quickly changed their tune. Jason could've transfigured their clothes into something more presentable, but he wasn't really in the mood. Not to mention, last thing he needed was to be cited for doing magic in front of Muggles.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: Up next... Dumbledore gets some unwanted visitors from overseas, as does Professor Snape; Jason and Mace also get some unwanted visitors, and Jason faces a terrifying prospect in the resulting fallout. Hang on, things are about to get a little bumpy..._


	14. Botched Repatriation

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted June 14, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 14-**

** BOTCHED REPATRIATION**

* * *

The morning of October 13 found the headmaster attending breakfast in the Great Hall, as was the routine. It was going on 8:30, and so most of the students were present, the noise in the room reflecting that. Things were about to be rudely interrupted.

The doors to the hall slammed open, and four crimson-robed Aurors stepped into the room, and marched up the centre of it, between the long tables, to stop in front of the raised dais. At first, Dumbledore thought they were British Aurors, but as they got closer, he could see the maple leaf forming the background of the Auror badge.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said one of them, his voice raw and gravelly.

"May I help you Aurors?"

"In accordance with a warrant issued by ICW's Judiciary committee, you are hereby placed under arrest. Please stand."

"Excuse me?"

"On what charges? This is outrageous!" McGonagall was incensed.

"I assure you, Professor, there are good reasons. Now, Headmaster. We insist. Please do not cause a scene," spoke the second Auror.

She was as short as the first was tall, but had already produced her wand.

"Now see here yeh lot," Hagrid thundered, leaping to his feet and nearly sending the table flying, "Dumbledore's a good man, wouldn't hurt a flea!"

"Calm down, Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sadly, as he rose, "Minerva, please see to the school in my absence. I'll in the meantime go with these gentlemen and get this sorted out."

As the headmaster left with the Aurors, McGonagall pursed her lips. She had a strong suspicion of exactly who was responsible for this turn of events. She would make a floo call later. The noise in the hall had risen significantly, as the student body talked rapidly amongst themselves.

"Finish up, please," McGonagall spoke firmly.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, was caught off guard, as they port keyed not to the Ministry of Magic in London, as he had expected, but to the Canadian Ministry, in Toronto. There, he was subjected to a thorough scan of his person for things which could be used to escape, or inflict self-injury, standard practice in the treatment of prisoners. To the ancient wizard, it was personally degrading, considering his status.

"All right, Mr. Dumbledore. You have the right to make a single floo call before we put you in lock up."

"What am I being detained for, gentlemen?"

"A number of charges, sir, beginning with murder, endangering a child, theft, fraud, misrepresentation of estate, tampering with a witness, false imprisonment, and uttering a false document. The lead protector is still compiling the charges, but those to start. Now let's get your floo call over with, so we may get you down to lock up."

This was not good. Dumbledore quickly put two and two together, and realized at once who had initiated such charges. Harry was wasting little time. Understandably he carried a lot of anger and resentment, but this... a lot of damage would be done to the light should he actually end up before a court. He allowed the Auror to lead him over to the floo.

"Who are we contacting, sir?"

"Alastor Moody, number twelve, Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore answered.

The Order had managed to retain the house, after placing the new owners under the Imperius curse. The former Auror had no trouble using the unforgivable, as, in his words, "The end justifies the means." The floo was activated, and Dumbledore stuck his head in. The conversation lasted about ten minutes, after which, he was escorted down to the holding cells.

* * *

_October 23, 2000_

_Hogwarts_

Sandra had certainly been to visit the Wizarding school before, but not on official business, since her cases had not involved English matters... not until now. On this particular morning, she found herself in the office of the rather sour Potions Professor, Severus Snape. Jason had certainly warned her about his demeanour—not that it was needed—Sandra was well aware of the man's temperament.

Be that as it may, the man had been added to the prosecution's witness list, and although a firm date had not been set for the hearing, she was already doing the leg work.

"You have been given notice requiring your attendance at the upcoming hearing for Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes," answered the potions master, curtly, his patented sneer firmly in place.

"I have been sent to ask a few questions pertaining to the charges he is facing."

That earned yet another sneer from the potions master.

"I will make no comment with regard to the headmaster unless it is during the actual trial, madam solicitor. You have wasted your time seeking me here."

Sandra got straight to the point.

"Professor. You realize, the accused nearly caused Mr. Black's death?"

"That mutt... good riddance," answered Snape, viciously.

"Not Sirius Black. I'm talking about the current head, my client, Professor."

"Potter."

"Black. The evidence lays several incidents which could have resulted in my clients death, directly at the headmaster's feet. I will not even begin to deal with my clients' abuse at the hands of his relatives."

Snape blinked. He'd believed Potter was every bit the spoiled little prince, being waited on hand-and-foot by his family. Albus had assured him he was being well taken care of, hadn't he?

"Explain!"

Sandra had him at this point. Jason had suggested she use that piece of information as bait, although it somewhat pained him to do so, but it worked better than she could have hoped.

"I'm sure Albus Dumbledore was more than happy to placate you and fill you with false stories of the boy's upbringing. Should you wish it, I believe Jason would be quite willing to supply a pensieve full of memories which would paint a rather different picture."

"But surely—" Snape did not finish.

If the boy were being mistreated—no, he wouldn't tell a soul. Just like he himself did not. How could he have missed the signs? He mentally berated himself, realizing the answer at once. His hate for the father had blinded him toward the son. It was as though a stone had dropped into the pit of his stomach. He had failed in his promise to Lily.

Schooling his features, he said, "Miss Fraser. You will have my full cooperation."

"Good to hear. Call me Sandra."

Snape inclined his head, and beckoned for her to take a seat in front of the fire. She accepted the offer.

"I need not say, those are serious charges. The tribunal is collecting evidence and it's more than likely further charges are pending."

"What is it you hope to accomplish by this sort of proceeding?"

The sneer was still evident, although somewhat less than it had been.

"Jason wishes to prevent others from facing the same sort of treatment as he's had from the accused. He also sends eternal gratitude for your testimony during the original trial."

"Mr. Black would not murder a classmate," Snape answered firmly, "Not even someone he despised. Being in Azkaban and the four years since, I can't be sure if that's changed."

"We are all capable of murder, Professor. Surely, you realize that."

"This is true," the potions master conceded. He then asked, "What other sort of charges is the headmaster facing?"

"Endangering a child, misrepresentation of estate, uttering a false document, fraud, multiple counts of tampering with a witness, and multiple counts of misuse of authority, just to start. As I've already said, the tribunal is investigating, and further charges are likely. Your cooperation will give you immunity from any charges that may result."

Snape nodded slowly. Black was letting him off lightly. Given the unfair way he'd treated the boy, he himself could be facing some very serious charges.

"Jason has most certainly filled me in on the relationship the pair of you had while he was a student. He does understand why, now far-removed from the school. However, I do have to ask a few questions just the same..."

* * *

_Evening of October 31_

Given the remote nature of the area, there had been very few trick-or-treaters calling at the Black property. They had still decorated, perching several jack-o-lanterns on the front porch, spooky candles in the windows, and even set up a set of speakers playing rather appropriate ambient sounds. It was not quite as much fun as back at Hogwarts, but they certainly had their own little party.

They had slowly wrapped things up, and by 11:30, the guests had all gone home. The offer had been there for everyone to stay the night, but it had been declined, and so only those more regular members of the household remained. Ron and Hermione excused themselves, since Ron did have a class in the morning to help with, and so it was only Jason, Mace, and Capa left. The three of them half-sat, half-lay in deck chairs, buried under several heavy blankets against the chill of the mid-autumn air. It had been a great evening all in all.

"'s been a great night, I think," said Jason, slurring his words slightly, the buzz of a half-dozen beers in full effect, "Usually something fucked up happens, y'know? Mum an' dad's death for starters."

"For real?" said Capa, arching an eyebrow.

"Voldemort murdered my parents eighteen years ago tonight. Halloween's not a happy time for me an' now you know why. Then there's been the troll incident, first year, right? Told you guys 'bout that. An' then there's been the Chamber o' Secrets incident... first night I heard the bas'lisk. That was a—"

"Charlie-foxtrot," Mace finished.

"Yeah, 'bout the size of it. An' third year... Sirius broke into the school, right? Attacked the Fat Lady... err... the portrait to the Gryffindor common room, see?"

"And fourth year... your name came out of the Goblet of Fire," Mace remembered.

"Exactly. So as I said... Halloween's not been a lot of fun for me." He picked up his beer, and downed the rest of it. "'s why I didn't want a big deal of things."

Suddenly, Jason jerked, as though he'd just gotten a nasty shock, and clutched the back of his head. Mace, meanwhile, saw the entire property line to the east of them shimmer a brilliant red for a moment, then disintegrate. _Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop._ Six figures had popped onto the property.

"Capa! Get Jason inside."

Mace scrambled to his feet, producing his wand, and readied his ice spike. "Get the others."

"Got it."

"I got this. Don' just send me away," said Jason, trying to get to his feet.

His intoxicated mind, however, proved too much of a hindrance. He fell back onto the deck chair. The group of intruders were racing toward them, and Mace was forced to duck, as several bolts of magic whizzed by, narrowly missing. Jason drew his wand.

"Hit to hurt... just like I showed. _REDUCTO_!"

A blast of red magic burst from his wand, narrowly missing the intruder.

"Jason?" Hermione had come out of the house.

"Kreacher!" Mace called, firing off a curse of his own.

_Pop_. "Master Mace ask for Kreacher?"

"Take Jason inside. Now."

"Of course."

"NO. You won't be taking me anywhere."

A blast of magic impacted with a vacant chair, turning it to ash. Kreacher instantly sized up the situation, and popped away, gripping Jason by the sleeve.

"What are these people... Mace, come on, inside-" she barely had time to duck, as another purple blast of magic narrowly missed, and impacted with the side of the house instead. It was getting deadly.

"You guys come on! We'll floo to the ministry."

Hermione levelled her wand toward the attackers, firing off several curses of her own. Jason, of course, burst out the back door, staggering back toward his mate, but his wand was trained on the attackers. More angry spells flew, but missed their marks wildly.

KAWHACK!

Mace, however, did not miss. The frozen projectile nailed one of the invaders, impaling them in the shoulder. They collapsed in a heap, and did not get up.

_Pop_. Jason had no time to act, as one of the attackers Apparated directly behind Mace, grabbed him by the shoulder, and they popped away.

"NOOOO!" Jason screamed, his arm spinning to line up with the nearest attacker.

"_SECTUMSEMPRA_!"

The curse found its target, and they too collapsed to the ground. The others popped away.

"No. No, no, no," Jason cried, and collapsed into deep sobs.

"I got this. Get help, Hermione," said Capa, although he, too was numb at this point.

Hermione practically flew back into the house, threw floo powder into the grate, calling out, "Auror office!" and stuck her head in the fire.

* * *

It had taken a bit of time to put the plan together. On Albus' instructions, Alastor had collected individuals within the Order known to be trustworthy with this sort of operation. None of the other professors could be called on, nor Hagrid, for that matter. They had to be foot soldiers, lesser-known individuals, but ones who would not question his instructions or Albus' leadership. After all, there had been rumblings in the Order about the headmaster perhaps losing his way, and no longer having the mettle to lead the organization. Those individuals would not do on such a mission.

Using his contacts and influence, the retired Auror had learned where the Potter boy was currently living, and more importantly, if there were any protections on the property. It came back as no surprise, the property had been well-warded, given the fact the eldest Weasley was a frequent visitor, according to the small amount of surveillance conducted. The target was not the boy, but the muscular man who had become practically glued to his hip. Potter would do just about anything for his friends and those he cared about. It seemed, James Mace was more than that. Moody couldn't ask for a better bargaining chip.

They brought down the wards on the property fairly easily, thanks to a senior warder enjoying some time off. He'd been paid rather handsomely with funds withdrawn from the school's vault—Albus had waved it off as a nominal expense. The spells had immediately started flying, but Moody held back, waiting for the package to be collected.

That took no more than two minutes, and he popped away. Most unfortunate two had been felled. One had been able to Auror Smythand was a promising recruit. Whatever Potter had done to him, it looked fatal. And Tonks... Whatever sort of weapon Mace was able to throw, it was wicked. The Auror would need the services of a healer right away—another member of the team had popped away with her. He frowned. Hadn't Albus warned him about the strange magic Mace could cast?

The rendezvous point was chaos. Two members of the extraction team were laid out in the abandoned barn, with several frozen projectiles piercing their torsos. One was still conscious, moaning in pain, while the second was knocked out from the injury. The other two members of the extraction team were also knocked out, one from the injury at the site, the other... looked blue in the face, as though he'd been suffocated.

"Come out and face me, boy," Moody growled, wand at the ready, his magical eye whirring madly.

KAWHACK! The icy projectile just barely missed.

"Come now, surrender and we won't harm Potter."

"Doubt that, fucker."

Mace leapt across a gap between the two upper platforms.

KAWHACK!

The spike again barely missed, forcing Moody to take cover behind a bale of hay.

"_REDUCTO_!" A red bolt of magic impacted with the beam holding the platform up, bringing it crashing to the floor, and sending the muscular man flying.

KAWHACK!

The ice spike this time found a target as Mace fell, impacting with Moody's wooden prosthetic leg, felling the former Auror. On his arse, however, he got his wand trained on his target.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Mace was sent flying backwards, into the back wall of the barn, and knocked silly.

"That will be enough, I think. _Reparo_," the grizzled old Auror whispered, and the busted prosthetic became almost as good as new.

He got to his feet, wand still trained on the now dazed man. The guy was breathing hard, chest heaving, casting the coldest look of hatred he could muster.

"The headmaster is only doing what is best for Potter. The boy has lost sight of that."

"Fuck you," Mace spat, trying to get his body to coordinate itself again.

Whatever the wizard had done to him, it had truly fucked him up. He finally got the orb to form in his hand, but a wand was then at his chest.

"Don't try it, lad," Moody warned, "Don't make it hard on yourself. I will stun you if I have to, and from experience, it won't tickle."

_POP. Crack._ The air was filled with dozens of pops and cracks, as the building seemed to be filled with crimson-robed Aurors.

"MINISTRY OF MAGIC!" Moody whirled to see wands being pointed at him from every conceivable location. It was all over. He simply sheathed his wand, and raised his arms.

"Good man. Step away from the victim. Slowly now."

"Just twitch the wrong way, you'll be in a body-bind." Mace recognized the Auror as Jessup Morgan. "All right there, Mr. Mace?"

"Be better once my head stops spinning. Some spell he used slammed me against the wall. Knocked me a bit stupid."

"Disarming hex," Moody supplied.

"Alastor Moody. Normally I would be more than happy to be meeting you. Unfortunately. You're under arrest, along with your compatriots. Charges of forcibly entering a warded property, attempt to commit bodily harm, abduction, forcible confinement, and illegally entering the country. Further charges may be added, should we see fit."

"We'll see to their processing, sir," said a chunky Auror.

"See to it, Seth. Beware this one, he's been at it a long time, knows more than all of us put together."

"Of course, sir."

"You two, meanwhile, with me, while we get Mr. Mace back where he belongs." Jessup gestured to two other Aurors.

"How's Jason?"

"Not harmed, but going half out of his mind worried about you."

"Then let's not fuck around."

He hoisted himself back to his feet, and fought back the wave of nausea. This was not going to be fun. The four of them linked arms, and popped away.

* * *

Landing back at the property, Mace felt his insides do the loop-the-loop, he bent over, and lost the remnants of dinner. It was only the pinnacle to the disaster that had now crowned what had been a great evening much earlier.

"Okay?"

"Will be..." He finally stood upright. "Gah... need some extra-strength mouthwash."

"Mace?" Capa was the first to greet the group. In the dim light, his friend looked terrible.

"Where's Jason?"

"We... um... Hermione had to stun him."

"Hey Jessup. We got another... um... another victim here." Another group of Aurors was still combing the property for evidence as to exactly what had happened. "The guy's cut open pretty bad."

"Still alive?"

"Yes sir."

"Send for a healer. We'll want to question all of them as to exactly what they were up to." Jessup turned back to Mace. "Go see to Jason. We'll all have a lengthy chat in the morning."

Inside, the house was still buzzing with people. It was no surprise Bill was there, as were his parents. Sandra was also there, along with her assistant. Mace only barely said 'hello', then climbed the stairs. He was in shock at this point. They had stormed onto the property, after HIM. Not Jason. Not Ron. Not Hermione. HIM. To get at his partner, his love, they came after HIM. If James Mace had _his_ way, the person or persons responsible would be in a lot of pain when he was done with them.

No surprise, Ron and Hermione were keeping vigil at Jason's bedside. Jason looked pale, even in the dim light, and by the movements of his chest, it looked like his breathing was a bit shallow.

"How is he?"

"Destroyed," answered Ron, "Went completely mental after you were grabbed."

"I had to stun him, he was about to go after you," said Hermione, "He wasn't rational."

"No, I get it... did what you had to."

Mace shed his sweater and the tee shirt under it, and tossed it into a nearby chair. "Charlie-foxtrot."

"A Charlie—what?" Ron was lost.

"Cluster-fuck," Mace clarified, sourly, "Describes this mess perfectly."

He stripped down to his underwear, not really caring about the others in the room at this point. He climbed into bed, and pulled Jason close.

"You won't mind us sticking around?" Hermione dared ask.

Since Jason was so out of it, Mace had to physically shift him onto his side, so they were in their usual positions when they slept together. "No, 's all good to me. After this shit... I'd want my friends around too if I didn't have family."

"Not the first time we've been at his bedside, mate," said Ron, darkly.

"Get some rest," said Hermione, "You don't look much better than Jason does."

* * *

At exactly 7 am, Cornelius Fudge was all but forced to meet with the Canadian Minister, Angela Simpson. She had barged through the floo with the Canadian DMLE head, as well as their head Auror, demanding said meeting. Fudge cringed, seeing the blaze of fury raging on the foreign minister's face. No, this was not going to be pleasant. Still, he attempted to placate her.

"Good morning, Angela... may I get—"

"Stuff the niceties, Fudge!" Angela hissed, "I would like an explanation as to why four of your Aurors came calling at the Black household in the early hours of this morning."

"I'm afraid-"

"I have five British witches and wizards in our lockup right now, Minister," said the lead Auror, "Another is still at _Upper Canada Hospital _under Auror guard."

"So it's back to our first question," said Angela, "What were they doing there?"

"We... I did not authorize any sort of... envoy to Canada, madam Minister," Fudge answered, timidly.

Angela Simpson was normally a very polite, friendly witch to deal with. To see this side of her character was throwing Fudge off balance.

"We are already questioning them," said the DMLE head, "I'm finding it even more alarming you have no knowledge of the activities of your Aurors. Might they be involved in something on the side that you weren't aware of?"

"We are checking them for the dark mark, Minister," said the head Auror, "You should be aware, no matter what the outcome, they will all be serving some serious prison time."

"What? We can't afford-" Fudge protested.

"Then perhaps you should be better informed of what's going on within your own ministry!" Angela snapped, cutting him off, "If you did, you might have a better chance at dealing with Voldemort."

She rolled her eyes as Fudge let out a gasp, and looked about ready to faint at the speaking of the Dark Lord's name.

"This is your only warning, Minister," said the DMLE head, "Next time some idiot decides to cross the pond and stir up some sort of shit, you'll have much bigger problems on your hand than a few terrorists."

"But... but..." Fudge stammered.

"But what? Sending Aurors into Canada without clearing it through our office?" the head Auror tsk-tsk'ed. "Wake up, Fudge. We could declare it war, and you know it."

Fudge turned deathly white. "M-madam Minister... surely... we can discuss this."

"Discuss what? A young wizard who now calls Canada home had his safety, his sanctuary invaded in no small way this morning. His friend was abducted by those individuals, and I promise you, had they been able to get out of the country with him, this conversation would have been _very_ different," said Angela, coldly, "I would suggest you determine the individuals behind this invasion, to ensure there is _not_ a repeat performance."

She stormed off, back toward the fireplaces, her escort closely behind.

Only when the Aurors watching her back left through the fireplace did he let go of the breath he was holding. He'd not even gotten the chance to ask who it was they had captured, for Merlin's sake! He did, of course, have an inkling of who might actually be involved. Black, she said, eh? Potter, she actually meant. So Dumbledore was trying to get the boy back under his control again, then. But... wasn't he also being held by the Canadian Ministry? He needed some answers, yesterday!

* * *

Jason's dreams as he lay unconscious were torture, as his mind invented new ways for his love to be tortured, cursed, and murdered. Each of them seemed to be worse, darker than the last. It was like Cedric, all over again. Worse still, with the potions they had given him, he had no idea the person featured in his nightmares was then safely laying beside him.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: Up next... fallout from the attempted kidnapping, including a significant modification of the wards surrounding the property..._


	15. The Blood Wards Renewed

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted June 21, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 15-**

**THE BLOOD WARDS RENEWED**

* * *

It was nearly lunch time before Jason regained any sort of consciousness. In some ways, it had been his own mind preventing him from awakening, out of fear of the horrible new reality he would find himself in. It was finally anger which roused him. Anger at the injustice of it all. Anger at the faceless enemy who dared storm onto his property, and take from him the one person who had brought him stability over the past few months—stability, love, comfort, all the things he had very little of before their fated meeting in June. Whoever they were, Jason would make sure they would pay for their crimes, if it was the last thing he did. At this point, cold-blooded murder was most certainly on the table.

Jason finally shifted, still half-out of it, hearing voices around him. It was no surprise there would be others in the room, likely keeping an ever-present vigil, worried half to death about his condition. He would need all of them now, he realized. And, knowing his friends—his true friends, proven time again—they would see him through.

"...about six Aurors on the property, they'll provide 'round the clock security." Sounded like that Jessup fellow, if Jason remembered correctly, his mind still in a haze.

"Jason won't like it," came Ron's voice, "He hates people making a fuss about things."

"Minister's orders, Mister Weasley. Angela's in a towering rage right now, b'y, never saw her so out of sorts as she was this morning. 'Think her English counterpart was about to piss himself right there in the Ministry atrium when we floo'ed over. Read 'im the riot act and then some."

"Jason has to realize it, he's an important person no matter which side of the pond he's on."

That would be miss Thompson, the Canadian DMLE head, if Jason remembered correctly. He mentally frowned at the comments, but they were right. He should have expected some sort of issue, right? In the Wizarding world, distance meant nothing. And then...

"Do whatever you gotta do. Fucking Christ..."

It was then Jason could feel a muscular arm holding him in a rather protective stance.

"M-mace..." Jason whispered, hoarsely.

"Right here, Jason."

Jason reached up and cupped Mace's chin, forcing them to face each other, as though he didn't believe it. He collapsed into a ball of emotions, as reality shattered the nightmares flying about his head.

"Jason... here."

Mace pressed a small bottle into one of Jason's hands.

"Calming draught."

Jason hurriedly consumed it, and found his glasses placed in his hands. He slipped them on, and took several deep breaths, allowing the calming draught to take effect. The pair only faced each other for a minute or so, while Jason gathered the courage to open his mouth without breaking down again.

"When... when you vanished... I nearly died inside."

"Be happy to know, all of those responsible are now in Ministry custody," said Morgan.

That earned a nod out of Jason.

"We take this sort of incident very seriously, and we'll get to the bottom of it before the day is out."

Jason, though, was only concerned about Mace at this point.

"You... did they hurt you?"

"Just knocked the wind out of me... but the um, Aurors showed up before anything else really happened," Mace answered, as they still continued to face each other. "The guy was this ugly fucker... looked like he had a chunk missing from his nose, kind of resembled a pirate I think. The whole wooden leg thing and all."

"Mad Eye Moody. Bloody hell, Mace... you went toe-to-toe with him?" Jason shivered. "He could've transfigured you into a puddle of piss with a wave of his wand!"

"He did send me flying."

"Now I know who's responsible," said Jason, the small smile vanishing from his face, "Dumbledore. The Order would've done this. Auror Morgan. When you guys question Moody, ask him if this operation was ordered by Dumbledore. I would almost bet a bag full of galleons his answer will be yes... unless he's been sworn to secrecy."

"One more thing to pin on the old man," said Sandra.

She was seated off to the side, a dicta-quill writing away on a pad of paper hovering off beside her.

"The Minister is already calling for an emergency session of the Wizengamot. Either this evening or tomorrow morning," said Morgan, "We'll likely need to be there."

"The Minister is asking for an official Writ of Censure to be declared against the British Ministry," Sandra explained.

"What would that do?"

"International shame," explained the DMLE head, "By our account, Aurors from a foreign Ministry entered Canada illegally, forced their way onto a warded property, and attempted to abduct one of the people there."

"It's not quite an act of war, but damned close," Morgan snorted, "And had they actually succeeded in getting Mr. Mace here out of the country, we still would have treated it that way."

Jason let out an involuntary giggle. "Don't think that's what Fudge would expect."

"Indeed not, Mr. Black. All I can say, we are far better prepared to deal with certain problems your former country is either unable or unwilling to. Your little Death Eater problem would be dealt with in a matter of days, if we were given the opportunity. And as far as Voldemort goes, there are other options for dealing with his threats," said the DMLE head.

"Fuck... almost wish they had've taken me then," said Mace.

That got the darkest look yet out of Jason. "You don't mean that. They could've taken you ANYWHERE! They used YOU to get to ME! THAT was their whole game plan, I can see it clear as mud!"

Jason pushed Mace's arm off him and slid over to the opposite side of the bed, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Knowing Dumbledore, he wouldn't have actually killed you, but... think about it. He put me in Azkaban because I was in the way." He scowled, then swung his legs over the side of the bed, and slowly stood up. "Gotta take a piss."

As Jason carried out his business, he still fumed at Mace's comments. 'Let himself be carted off back to England? Bloody hell!' he shouted in his head. It was likely what the old man had planned. Oh, and then of course there would have been the obligatory 'It's for the greater good, my boy' speech. "I'll show you 'greater good', Albus Dumbledore," Jason muttered.

He remained in a most sour mood for the remainder of the day, although there was constant comings and goings, as the Ministry continued their investigation into the incident. A reporter from the _National Wizards' Standard_ had asked about getting an interview, but Jason declined it, barely remaining civil with the witch—she had been more than polite after all. He was still relatively unknown in Canada—although the incident was certainly going to change that—any statement or interview would only further erode his privacy. Even Sandra could not convince him to change his mind on the matter.

"He always been like this?" Capa dared ask.

The much smaller group, minus Jason, were having dinner, though appetites were rather thin given the circumstances. Jason had gone off on his broom, wanting to burn off some of the anger and frustration he was feeling at the moment.

"W-when Cedric was killed, he barely ate," answered Ron, picking at the half-filled plate in front of him. "Still dunno why h-he was sent back to those awful Muggles. Should've had someone to talk to, y'know, right?"

"No shit. How do we get through this though? I'm still here, right?"

Mace was doing practically the same thing as Ron. Food wasn't really on his mind at this point.

"You mean the world to him, Mace," said Hermione.

"Yeah, know that. He means... he means the world to me."

"Just be there for him. I know how he thinks. It's Cedric all over again... even though you... you're still alive, he's—"

"Dealing with Cedric's death," Mace finished.

"Exactly. Don't needle him too much about things—Merlin knows we did that enough as it was... when we were still attending Hogwarts."

"Just support him, it's what he needs right now."

"Equally, if he wants some space, let him have it," Bill threw in.

He'd been there all day, having to rebuild the property wards from scratch. Whoever had done the deed had stuffed things up well. Gringotts was currently investigating the magical signature, and if the culprit was an employee of the bank, being sacked would be the _least_ of their worries.

"I... I'll sleep in one of the spare rooms."

"Last thing he'd make you do, mate. He's angry, but... Merlin... he's not really mad at you... it's Dumbledore. Moody's part of his Order, right... so it was Dumbledore's plan," said Ron.

"Sandra says the trial date should be fixed in a matter of days," said Bill, swirling the light amber liquid around in his glass, "The old man won't be able to do too much from Azkaban."

"Unless they break him out."

Everyone looked up to see Jason standing at the door to the kitchen, Firebolt in hand.

"But I still like the idea of the fucker being sent to rot there. At least he'll be sent there honestly."

He leaned the broom in the corner, then sat heavily in one of the chairs. He still looked rattled and angry, but nothing like earlier.

"Had a chat with Jessup. They've got walk-in privileges, unless the wards... err... detect it's not them and so on."

"Yes. Intent ward," said Bill, "And really. I want you to consider upgrading to blood-powered wards."

"You mean like the ones on my aunt's property."

"Yes and no. The wards I have in mind would be powered by your blood, and the blood of a friend, relative-"

"Love," Mace threw out, momentarily furrowing his brow.

Bill nodded in agreement.

"Exactly. The bond the pair of you share would be a terrible weapon against those who wish to do you harm here."

"Would you?" Jason asked, facing his mate.

"If it means stopping the bullshit from last night from happening again? You bet."

"I guess that settles that. Not tonight though. I'll be glad when this day's finished."

"Tomorrow. Early. Preferably at dawn."

"Why would that matter?" Capa dared ask.

"Dawn and dusk are the times when the veil between our world and the spirit world are thinnest. It's when the old magic is at its strongest. Using the ambient magic around us will boost the power of the spells I have to cast."

"It would make it very difficult to bring down. Definitely not an individual," said Hermione, "At least not unless they were particularly strong. Dumbledore. Voldemort. Maybe Professor Flitwick. But most witches or wizards wouldn't be able to do it."

"It's also why it's illegal. The Ministry has banned it as a type of dark magic."

"Right. More like, 'we don't like the idea of people being able to keep the Ministry out'," Jason snorted, plucking a roll from the basket at the centre of the table.

"Pretty much it," Bill continued, "Doesn't really matter here. I already mentioned what I wanted to to with Jessup. The Ministry here doesn't care, so we're in the clear... though he did say, even if it was illegal, he would just look the other way. You have their full support, Jason."

"Guess that's good. I'll have to have Kreacher send them out refreshments now and then. Only fair." He faced Bill. "Get us up an hour before so we can be ready."

Jason still said barely a word to Mace as they got ready for bed. Hermione had pegged him quite well, as the memory of Cedric's death still plagued his consciousness. His dreams that night would be murder if he didn't take a dreamless sleep potion. He finally climbed into bed, and uncorked the bottle waiting for him on the bedside table.

"Jason..."

"Huh?"

"Look... uh..."

Mace looked down at his hands for a second, but forced himself to look Jason in the eye.

"I... I'm sorry... about what I said earlier."

"I know. I forgive you."

He gave the older man a smile that reached his eyes, the first since the previous evening, and waited as he climbed into bed himself.

"I think... yeah, at first I was pissed at you for saying it... but really... no, the only person I'm angry at right now, is Dumbledore. He caused this."

Jason let out a little giggle.

"Know this much. I'll have a grand time enjoying what the Canadians do to him. Hearing Samantha and Jessup this afternoon, they want his head."

"So do I, but I'll get in line."

Jason let out another laugh.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do. Right... gonna get some rest."

He downed the vile potion, and lay down, allowing Mace to pull him close such as he always did.

The following morning arrived cold and raw, with a north wind blowing harshly across the open fields. The ward-placement required them to visit the corner points of the ward, marking its perimeter, and warming charms were applied liberally. At each location, a blood offering was made by both Mace and Harry, with Bill casting a series of spells at the runic symbols drawn into the ground. As the spell took hold, the symbols seemed to vanish into the earth, as though nothing had been drawn there to begin with.

The final setting was done inside the house, in the cellar. Here, there was an actual stone—crimson in colour. It immediately reminded Jason of the Philosopher's Stone, how it shimmered in the dim light.

"It's a blood stone," Bill explained, "Don't ask me where I was able to obtain one—"

"I'll pay you back for it," Jason promised.

"I appreciate that. It was definitely not cheap. Now. We'll set it off out of sight... this looks to be a good location."

He pointed to a spot hidden by the old furnace. He then pointed to the stone with his wand, casting several more charms and spells. Jason could feel the magical energy beginning to pool around them, the culmination of the ward setting was near.

"Right. Just one more offering of blood from the pair of you—wait... let me finish," said Bill, sharply.

Jason was about to prick the end of his finger again.

"Let three drops of blood fall on the stone, while speaking, '_sempra patronum_'."

"Protect always," Jason translated, to which Bill nodded.

"Any time you're ready."

Jason pricked his finger once more, allowing three drops of his blood fall on the stone as instructed.

"_Sempra patronum_," he intoned.

The stone flashed a brilliant red shade for a moment, but did little else.

"Mace..."

Mace duplicated Jason's actions, and also spoke, "_Sempra patronum_."

The ground actually shuddered, as a blinding red light burst from the stone. Jason actually winced, feeling the wards snap into place in his mind's eye. Bill actually dropped the stone in shock, but it didn't matter, as it seemed to make up its own mind where it actually belonged. And, as the light dimmed somewhat, the trio realized they weren't alone.

Jason collapsed to his knees, seeing the trio which now stood near the spot where the stone had set itself. They were ghostly, but... more than that. It was much like he remembered Riddle, back during second year. He recognized them at once. Both Bill and Mace were stunned into silence.

"M-mum? Dad? S-sirius?"

"Right here, kiddo," answered his godfather, a warm smile on his face.

He was no longer waxen and shabby, as he'd been, cooped up in his mother's house. His parents were exactly as Jason remembered seeing them in the _Mirror of Erised_, both wearing warm smiles as Sirius was.

"We are so proud of you, son," said James, softly, "You've faced so much."

"H-how?" Jason finally found his voice.

"My love... my son," said Lily, "You now have the protection I had so wished you to have when you were but a boy. Mr. Weasley, you have our heart-felt thanks, for looking out after our son."

"It... it was the best thing I could come up with, M-mrs. Potter," answered Bill, shakily.

This was above and beyond anything he'd ever witnessed, and that was saying something.

"Still... how were you brought here?"

"None of us know, Bill," answered Sirius, although he still smiled, "If anything it gives the three of us a chance to properly say farewell to Harry... or should I say Jason." He beamed brightly. "Good to see you've taken the Black name."

"You... none of you are upset?"

"Why would we be upset, dear?" Lily asked, "The Potter name carries weight of its own, but you are doing what you need to protect your interests, both now and in the future, once current events get sorted... am I right?"

"Yes, mum." Jason blushed a little.

It was unnerving they were able to read into and see what he was planning.

"Unfortunate we won't have a son or daughter to carry on the name, but..."

"Not completely out of the question, dad," answered Jason, "There are ways, right?"

He cast a glance at Bill.

"Um... right. Yeah, of course."

"And Mr. Mace. Should you ever do anything stupid toward my son... the afterlife will be... unpleasant," said James, although he smirked as he said it.

"James!"

Lily gave her husband a swat, and Jason had to giggle. His face fell, however.

"You guys can't stay."

"I'm sorry, kiddo. No we can't," answered Sirius, his smile also faltering a little. "Just know, we all love you more than you can know."

"Sweetheart. Remember this. What you want to do, it's entirely up to you. Merlin I am so thankful you turned out to be the wonderful boy you are," said Lily, "My word... that tart of a sister of mine..." she muttered, mostly to herself, but then said, "We know the direction you're thinking of heading, and just know, even here in the afterlife, we support what you decide to do... all of us."

"Th-thanks, mum."

Jason felt his eyes prickle with hot tears, the warmth of his parents' love and praise washing over him. Mace was already beside him, quick to offer moral support.

"We'll be watching you, Jason. Never forget, we are always with you," said Sirius, pointing a finger at Jason's heart. "Right here."

His shade was beginning to fade at this point, as were his parents.

"Right here, always, Jason," his mother spoke, her significantly more transparent hand also pointing to his heart.

"With you always, son." James added his, as they faded out of sight. Overwhelmed by the event, Jason simply collapsed into his love and cried.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: As I have mentioned already, this story is virtually finished, needing only an epilogue. That said, I am presently working on a new project, and would love to have a beta reader. Send me an owl (*cough* private message *cough*) if you're interested._

_Next chapter... we find out the depths of the former headmaster's depravity._


	16. The Old Man's Confession

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_This chapter: Dumbledore tells all while dosed with Veritaserum._

_Posted Jun 28, 2012._

* * *

**-CHAPTER 16-**

**THE OLD MAN'S CONFESSION**

* * *

_December 18, 2000  
Canadian Ministry of Magic, Toronto ON_

The trial of Albus Dumbledore had been a lengthy affair—though not as lengthy as some Muggle trials could be. Testimony from the defence had concluded the day before, with the court adjourning while the twenty-member panel debated the verdict. There had been a great number of witnesses called, most of them by the prosecution, or the protector, as the ICW deemed the side working as such.

The defender, too, presented witnesses, although not as many. Most of them were character witnesses, and when truly pressed by the protector, their testimony was in many cases shredded into tiny pieces. Jason thanked everything holy Sandra was on his side. The woman was truly frightening when she got up a head of steam.

Her ferocious methods of questioning had already resulted in charges against several other individuals, including the English Minister of Magic, and his toad-like undersecretary. That had resulted in the English Wizengamot expelling the dumpy wizard from office on December 10th, for, even though the man had not yet faced the international court, it would look bad if he were allowed to remain. Names were already being floated around on a successor, including one Amelia Bones, the current head of DMLE.

It was clear the international community had grown tired of the cancer that festered within the English Wizarding community, and were taking steps to correct it... whether Britain wanted it or not. After all, two of the most dangerous dark wizards in modern history had been spawned there, and in the case of one, evidence could place blame directly at the feet of one man: Albus Dumbledore.

"All rise," The Auror waiting at a side door in the court room announced, as the door opened.

Everyone stood as the large panel of international jurors filed in, and took their seats on the raised benches. Finally, the overseeing judge, a short, pudgy wizard from Brazil, entered the room, and stepped up into his box, slightly raised from the rest of the benches. He sat down.

"Please be seated."

There was a rustle of fabric as everyone took their seats.

"This has been a most disturbing enquiry, I do have to admit. Liberties have been taken, rights were ignored, lives were destroyed, in the interest of what?"

The judge looked about ready to pinch the bridge of his nose, much like Jason had seen Snape do so many times.

"The accused will rise."

Dumbledore rose, along with the defender assigned to him, and the two assistants.

The judge continued, "Upon the weighing of the evidence presented to this international court, the panel finds the accused, Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore, guilty of all the charges filed against him. Before we continue, I would like Mr. Black to present his thoughts, before we pass sentence."

"Sir?" Jason arched an eyebrow.

"In the Muggle system, the victims are allowed to give some sort of statement before the accused is sentenced," Sandra explained.

"Oh." Jason stood up. "Judge Santos. I think... I think I would like to ask the accused a few questions. Would it be possible if he were first given Veritaserum?"

"Objection!" the defender shouted, "That is grossly-"

"Within the bounds and purview of the court," answered the Judge, with a nod, "I'll allow it. Aurors..."

It was no struggle really, although Dumbledore did seem to put up a bit of resistance, as he was forced into the witness chair, then stunned. The Auror wore a nasty smirk as he did so. The aged wizard's mouth was forced open, searched for any sort of hidden pill or caplet which might negate the potion's effects (two were found, along with a poison caplet), and three drops of the clear liquid were then allowed to drop onto his tongue. He was then revived.

Dumbledore sat there a moment, and they could see by the way his jaw was shifting around, he was searching his mouth cavity for the hidden contraband.

A smirking Auror questioned, "Looking for these?"

The look on the old man's face was priceless. Still, the old wizard did his best to fight the powerful truth serum, but it was no use. The seconds ticked by, and he slowly lost the battle, his body relaxing as the serum took hold.

Finally, the Auror gave a nod, declaring, "He's all yours, Mr. Black."

The defender made to protest again, but a withering glance from Judge Santos silenced him.

"Thank you, Auror," said Jason, with a slight incline of the head.

He come around the table, to face the witness chair.

"Professor. Ex-professor, I should now say, I guess. Up until four years ago... even right after all that happened, Sirius' death... I still respected you. I thought of you like a grandfather. You were someone I could put hope in, someone who would be there for me when no one else was."

Jason took off his glasses, and set them on the table, then returned to where he'd been standing.

"I guess the best thing to do is start at the beginning. More like, way back at the beginning. Long before me. See, Tom Riddle and I had a chat in the Chamber of Secrets, before I destroyed that little diary of his. He told me at length about his home situation, and I couldn't help but notice how similar it was to mine. I guess then the first question. When you met Tom Marvolo Riddle, why did you leave him in such a deplorable environment where he was hated?"

"At first, I believed that was still the best place for him," answered Dumbledore, calmly.

"And later, when he came to you, and later to Professor Dippet, begging and pleading that he be allowed to remain at Hogwarts?"

"Harry, you have to understand, with the chamber being opened all those years ago-"

"The Chamber of Secrets, you mean," Jason clarified, to which Dumbledore answered, "Yes, the Chamber of Secrets. The circumstances at the time prevented us from making any sort of arrangement for him. Professor Dippet, naturally, did suggest he be looked after by a Wizarding family—The Prewitts were certainly a candidate, but I did remind him Riddle was a Slytherin, and the family might not look out for the boy."

"Sabotaged his thinking, you mean."

"Yes," answered Dumbledore, although he hadn't wanted to.

"Did you know, the first time you met Tom, how dangerous he was?"

"Yes. I was able to get into his thoughts, see his memories," answered Dumbledore, "The boy could already control his magic at eleven and a half years old. He already carried a healthy dose of resentment for those around him, and a lack of respect for those in authority. Even then, at that first meeting, I saw he had grandiose thoughts of making the world pay for his hurt."

"Why then, did you permit the abuses to continue?"

"I saw also, a powerful young wizard," answered Dumbledore, calmly, "One who, if moulded just so, could influence great change in our world."

"Well, congratulations. You certainly got that," Jason scoffed, "Instead of doing what was right, you allowed him to fester and grow into the terrible man he became. I think, that is what you truly wanted... you wanted another adversary to defeat, to add one more great accolade to your hat, trophy room, or whatever it might be. Isn't that true?"

Dumbledore truly fought against it. He finally clamped a hand over his mouth as to prevent him from answering.

Jason gave another nasty smirk.

"Auror, he appears to have trouble answering the question."

The Auror had no trouble fixing the problem, and both Dumbledore's arms were bound in the chair by heavy chains.

"Again. Is it true that you wanted another adversary in Tom Marvolo Riddle?" Jason asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered, defeated.

Naturally, the gallery had seen his reaction to the question the first time, so the bombshell wasn't quite as large, but nonetheless, it had an impact.

"So by all accounts, you sired the dark lord Voldemort. I hope you're proud of yourself," said Jason, his features darkening, "Let us then move on."

He went back to the protector's table, picking up another page of parchment. He knew he was to have this opportunity, after all, and his reaction to the judge calling on him had been an act.

"Let's go back to the night you hired Sybill Trelawney to teach Divination. Did you know there was a spy from Voldemort's side listening in?"

"I was nearly certain of it," answered Dumbledore, "I knew Severus Snape had taken the Dark Mark not long before."

"So he listened in, and caught part of the prophecy. Why did you let him?"

"I knew if word got back to Tom, he would have to act. It all unfolded better than I could have hoped for."

"You wished for my parents to die?"

"Yes. It was unfortunate, but all _for the greater good_."

Jason felt white-hot anger lick the inside of him once more—he so wanted to curse the man in front of him right now. He stepped back, and inhaled several deep breaths to get himself back under control. Last thing he needed to do was blow up the court room in a fit of rage. Naturally, the reaction of the gallery was one to remember as well, with the sharp intake of breath from a number of people... including a certain snarky potions master. If the look he was giving right then could kill, the old man would be dead many times over.

"When... when you realized it had came to pass... what was the first thing you did?"

"I travelled to Gringotts," answered Dumbledore, "I knew I had little time to act before certain things took effect, namely the release of the Potter will. I used my authority as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to have it sealed away indefinitely. It could not be executed if my plan was to work."

"Yes, your plans on top of plans, Dumbledore," Jason snarled, "You have so many plans on the go it seems. Let's keep to this one. Why did my parents' will scare you so much?"

"It listed specific individuals you should have been left with, beginning with your godfather, Sirius Black."

"But that's not all of it, am I right? No, there was another clause just below those recommendations. Tell me, Dumbledore, what did it say?" Jason was already picking up another piece of parchment from the table.

"You were not to be left with the Dursleys-"

"And I quote, '_Even if they are the last Muggles left on Earth'_, according to my late mother," Jason scowled, "You, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, have directly and wilfully violated a magical contract. I still wonder how you managed to keep your magic—and Fawkes, come to think of it."

At that exact moment, the bird in mention arrived in his traditional blaze of golden flames. He fluttered down to rest on Jason's shoulder.

"Good to see you, my friend."

The bird seemed to assess his former bonded, and let out a long, mournful call.

"A very curious question indeed, Mr. Black," said judge Santos, glancing at a page of parchment before him, "Dumbledore has indeed signed the will as a witness, most certainly qualifying him as a participant. He is equally named as the executor."

"Ah," Jason said, another chilling smirk crossing his face, "Now I understand."

Mace actually shivered from his place behind the defender's table. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn't good.

"Jason?" Sandra too, looked worried.

Jason smiled back, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"I know the answer, see. As the executor, he simply told himself he would actually execute the contents of the will—eventually. It was a little lie, see."

Jason smirked again.

"Albus Dumbledore. As the executor of my parents' will, did you ever have intentions of following through with their instructions?"

Once again the powerful wizard fought against the equally powerful truth serum... and once again, he lost.

"No, I did not."

A terrible _shriek_ followed, along with the sound of shattering glass, as a blaze of purple energy surged out of the elderly wizard. Fawkes let out an indignant squawk, and fluttered off to land on Mace's shoulder, momentarily startling him—he was watching the extraordinary display in the middle of the court room after all. A thick tendril of the energy burrowed itself inside of Jason, while the rest of it—the bulk of it, dissipated into the atmosphere. Jason looked dazed by it, and tottered over to the table, where the lead protector and Sandra helped him into a seat.

"Well then," said judge Santos, seeming to be equally startled by what had just happened, "A short recess, while we sort this out. I assume, you are far from finished, Mr. Black?"

"N-no, s-s-sir," Jason stuttered, feeling the strange magic going haywire in his own body.

He sat there, heaving, still not quite understanding what was going on.

"The magic judged him in violation, Jason," Hermione explained, from her spot on the bench directly behind them, "You were the direct victim."

"So he... he took some of Dumbledore's magic," Mace guessed.

"Some of it. Most of it simply dissipated back into nature, but, yes, some of it, as a sort of reparation."

"Merlin... some? Head's still swimming," Jason breathed, his heart still racing, "S-s-so that's what happens when someone breaks a magical contract."

Mace only shook his head.

"Holy fuck, Jason. Don't ever let me get on your bad side." He thought for a moment. "So Dumbledore's got no magic left at all now."

"None. If he's in contempt of the magic again, it'll take his life next time," said Sandra, "I hope that's not what you have in mind, Jason." She cast a worried look toward her client.

"No. D-d-death would be too easy for him. I want him to experience what I experienced. The company of Dementors isn't a pleasant thing... possibly something much worse than death," Jason answered, as he poured himself a glass of water.

He glanced over to the witness chair, where Dumbledore, still chained to it, was getting seen to by a pair of healers. They were casting a barrage of spells at the aged former wizard, likely to determine exactly what sort of damage had been done.

"Mr. Black, are you all right?"

Another healer had come over to check.

"F-fine, sir. Just... a little rattled, I think. Just need a minute or so."

"Good then, very good." The healer was off to assist the other two.

"Jason. Look at me."

Jason turned and faced his partner, and their lips met. It was a little awkward, considering where Fawkes had chosen to rest at the moment, but they made it work either way, and broke apart after a few seconds. Jason felt instantly better from the intimacy.

"Better?"

"Much," Jason smirked, getting up. He drew his wand. "_Lumos_," he whispered, and instantly had to shut his eyes, as the light bloomed from the end of it.

"Uh... right then. _Nox_."

He put his wand away, smirking, and gave a nod to the Auror standing at the side door.

Under a minute later, judge Santos was back at his seat.

"If we are ready to resume-"

"I must again protest," said the defender, "Isn't it enough Mr. Black has virtually reduced my client to a squib as it is?"

"The victim has the right, counsellor, to address his aggressor before sentence is passed. This is the way of our court for nearly three centuries, I need not remind you."

The judge gave a nod to the Auror on the floor, who again administered three drops of Veritaserum to the elderly man.

The potion having taken effect, Jason was again allowed the floor.

"I won't delve into too many details with my next set of questions, since asking too many of them here may actually cause you to forfeit your life... and quite honestly, that would be too easy. So I'll keep this set of questions simple. You naturally knew already, Sirius Black was my godfather. I think I know the answer to this one, but I'll ask it anyway. Why did you not use your powers within the Wizengamot to reopen the case and force a trial?"

"Because I knew that, should he ever be released and cleared of charges, he would immediately seek custody of you."

"And?"

"He would also demand to see the Potter will. Being the last in line of a noble and ancient house, coupled with him being your godfather, it would usurp my authority on the issue."

"And he would have known then, as would the rest of the world, of your deceit. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Moving momentarily forward to fifth-year, just so we do stick to the same topic here... it wasn't really Narcissa Malfoy and Belletrix Lestrange filling Kreacher with nonsense, was it?"

"No."

"Who was it?"

"It was me."

"How?"

"I used a combination of memory charms and the Imperius curse. It wasn't him who injured Buckbeak, it was me."

"I see."

Jason knew he was reaching at this point, but took a chance anyway.

"Is it true, then, it was actually you, and not Voldemort, who orchestrated the events at the Department of Mysteries in June of 1996?"

"It was me," Dumbledore admitted.

Jason's hand twitched toward his wand, as he felt the inferno of white-hot anger flare in his belly. It had indeed been a reach, but it angered him more to know he'd been bang on with his gut.

"You effectively murdered my godfather, the head of a most ancient and noble house. Albus Dumbledore. You're a _fucking_ monster."

"Decorum, please," a witch on the far right of the panel chided, "Any further language such as that, we will fine you."

"Sorry, mum."

Jason took another deep breath to calm himself down. He went back to the protector's table a moment, pulling out another page of parchment.

"Let me jump back a year. Alastor Moody. You've known each other a long time, this is well known, I think. So tell me. When he arrived at Hogwarts, did you know it was Barty Crouch Junior, rather than your friend?"

"I did."

"What did you do?"

"After the feast, I stunned him, dosed him with Veritaserum, and determined what he was truly up to. I then modified his memory, looked in on my friend, and returned to my office. I had suspected Tom would try something along what was planned, all considering. Tom is most certainly a smart wizard, you must realize."

"I do," Jason agreed, then scowled. "So. An entire year, you knew exactly what Tom Riddle was up to, exactly what he was planning, and you did nothing. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"How did you feel, then, when I arrived back in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, with a friend... classmate... boyfriend... DEAD, BECAUSE OF YOUR BLOODY SCHEMES!"

"I felt somewhat pleased," answered Dumbledore, calmly, "Most unfortunate, the Diggory boy, but it was all for the greater good."

Jason finally lost it. "YOU TWO-FACED, BOOT-LICKING FOUL-VILE—MOTHERFUCKER!"

He was about to pummel the old man, but found himself being held back by two strong arms.

"Jason. He's not worth it."

Santos, meanwhile, sent a firework up at the ceiling. "Order."

"That'll be a thousand galleon fine, Mr. Black," said the same witch on the far right of the panel.

"Don't care," Jason scowled, "Donate it to the poor, really don't care."

Mace still held him tightly in a near bear-hug at this point, but was relaxing his grip.

"You all right?"

"Yeah—no, stay with me. Just to keep me from... y-you know," Jason answered, and Mace let go of him. Jason still rounded on the former headmaster.

"You're truly unimaginable. You admit to little remorse at learning a bright young wizard was murdered by the Dark Lord. You admit you were pleased to find he had been resurrected. Why?"

"I knew it would only be a matter of time before the pair of you would face off again. You are both extraordinary wizards, Harry. Surely you realize that."

"I do," Jason admitted, and again took several deep breaths to further calm himself. "I do respect Tom enough to recognize him as a powerful wizard indeed. I would say, in fact, I have more respect for him, than I have for you. At least Tom is rather direct in his intentions toward me... unlike you. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes."

"Good to see the Veritaserum is still working."

Jason felt Mace put a hand on his shoulder.

"When did you decide I needed to be moved out of the way—or put in Azkaban, more bluntly?"

"Immediately after our meeting in my office, after the (fortunate was whispered here) events in the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore admitted.

"After the sharing of the prophecy. Why?"

"I realized you had become more powerful than me. You had the power to easily defeat Tom and I both."

"Other than a few certain items he has stashed away. But when would you have told me about them?"

"When the time was right. I cannot answer exactly when," said Dumbledore. Jason frowned, glancing toward the Auror.

"An honest answer, Mr. Black, his behaviour is consistent," the Auror said.

"Good, although unfortunate. I won't reveal more detail about exactly what we're talking about, since it could reach the wrong ears," said Jason.

"He's created—"

This time it was Mace who slashed his wand at Dumbledore, silencing him.

"You let go of that little secret, fucker, I'll bust both your kneecaps right here and now."

"Another thousand dollar fine, Mr. Black."

"But-"

"He's with your party, Mr. Black," said judge Santos, "And I would appreciate, Mr. Mace, that you did not threaten individuals in my courtroom."

"Sorry, your honour."

Jason, meanwhile, removed the silencing charm.

"So we've established the why. So now, the how. How did you frame me for murder, Albus?"

"I summoned Kreacher, knowing he was visiting Narcissa Malfoy. I simply sent a small missive along with him, for Belletrix Lestrange. Inside, was a few strands of your hair, and a draft from Gringotts."

"Where did you get the draft?"

"From your vault."

Jason looked murderous.

"You used money out of _my vault_ to pay a Death Eater."

"Yes."

"What did the missive ask her to do?"

"I asked her to take polyjuice potion, disguising herself as you. While you were asleep in your dormitory, I collected your wand and gave it to Kreacher, informing him to seek you out and help you into Hogwarts when the time was right."

"I'll be having a small chat with my little friend later, I think, making sure that sort of thing can't be repeated," said Jason, airily. No, he certainly wouldn't punish or hurt the old house elf, but there needed to be a few more safeguards put in place.

"When she was inside the school, what was she to do?"

"Attack the first individual she came across in a secluded location. Completing the task would earn her an additional draft from Gringotts, sent through the house elf."

"I'm curious to know," said a wizard on the left side of the panel, "How were you able to get a known Death Eater to trust your word, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"I am—or was—quite adept at the use of compulsion charms and loyalty charms."

"I see."

"She would have trusted him implicitly. Though I'm guessing Kreacher didn't tell her it came from Dumbledore," said Jason, "I mean, the Death Eaters aren't exactly the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree, but they're not thick as bricks either. Well.. maybe Crabbe and Goyle are... beside the point... sorry. Thing is, it was Dumbledore, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised, really." He took a breath. "I barely remember stumbling through the hallway that day. My head was messed up, but not that messed up. Did you do something to me, Albus?"

"Yes."

"What exactly did you do?"

"A compulsion charm convincing you to visit Miss Myrtle."

"Right, the ghost that haunts the second floor girls' toilet," said Jason. "That's where the Aurors found me. How long did you plan on keeping me in Azkaban?"

"Until you were significantly weakened by the Dementors, or in the small chance I was unable to defeat Tom myself. Though you already realize, as long as you were alive, he couldn't be killed. You were tethered together up until recently, you see."

"Until recently. I know," answered Jason, furrowing his brow. "Did you intend to murder me if necessary?"

"Yes. Harry, it was all for _the greater good_."

"You know what I think about the '_greater good_'." Jason used his fingers to make air brackets as he spoke 'greater good'. "It's interesting, you know, that your famous phrase, is the same phrase which adorns the entrance to another Wizarding prison: Nurmengard. Tell us, who is the only prisoner still being kept there?"

"Gellert Grindelwald."

"The former 'worst dark lord in recent memory'," said Jason. "I have to wonder, but... no, I don't think we really need to know. Something about old wounds in there somewhere, I'll just leave it alone. I guess that leaves me with just one final question, Albus Dumbledore. Was it worth it?"

He again felt Mace put his hands on his shoulders in support.

"No."

The answer somewhat surprised Jason, equally as much as the glassy eyes of the former headmaster. He was clearly on the verge of tears. "You're not as cold-hearted as I thought, then. This is good bye, Albus. I hope your next life is better than this one. I have no further questions."

He let Mace lead him back to the bench behind the protectors' table, while the Auror on the floor produced the antidote for Veritaserum. The room was starting to buzz as people began to talk about the revelations they'd just heard. It was sensational, to say the least! A silencing ward had gone up, shielding the bench from the rest of the room. The panel and the judge all huddled together, while a pair of Aurors now helped the aged former headmaster back to his seat behind the defender's table.

At last, the panel shuffled back to their seats, and judge Santos again shot off a firework, silencing the room.

"Albus Dumbledore. Please rise."

All at the defender's table stood.

"Our initial sentence had included magical suppression. However, since Mr. Black seems to have already taken care of that little detail, your sentence shall be as follows. You will spend the remainder of your natural life locked away in Azkaban. It is further ordered you have no contact with any individual you have had personal contact with, for any reason, seeing from the result of such interaction recently. You will be looked on by a medi-witch periodically, to ensure you do not expire prematurely.

"All of your belongings, including the contents of any vaults you have control of, are henceforth seized and awarded to your primary victim as compensation for your crimes. Any beneficiaries named in your current, valid, last will and testament will be informed of this decision, and shall be equally reminded, it is binding and irreversible, being the consequences of the actions you have taken, and the pain and suffering you have caused.

"Albus Dumbledore. The level of depravity demonstrated here goes beyond criminal, into territory I have yet to fathom. I have been a sitting judge in my native Brazil going on thirty-five years, so that is indeed saying something. I truly echo Mr. Black's sentiments: may your next life be better than this was. I declare this hearing to be concluded." Another firework burst from the end of his wand.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: Up next, Jason and his friends celebrate Christmas..._


	17. Christmas

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted July 5, 2012._

* * *

**17: CHRISTMAS**

* * *

The _National Wizards' Standard_ the following morning was more than an eye full. The top half of the front page was taken up by an enormous picture of the disgraced former headmaster, as he was led from the Ministry in irons, escorted by a contingent of sour-faced Aurors. The aged man looked every bit his one hundred and fifty plus, seemingly deflated and defeated from the affair. _DUMBLEDORE: DARK LORD IN WAITING?_ The headline above it exclaimed, and in smaller type: _Sins revisited: Riddle and Potter shared similar childhoods; Dumbledore responsible_

Jason sucked in a breath, and blew it out. It was done. Sandra had confirmed late the previous evening, the old man had been delivered to Azkaban just after dinner. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was always concerned about something happening that would somehow prevent justice from being paid out. Namely, a miraculous escape on the part of the aged former wizard. Now, unless he was broken out of the Wizarding prison, he would live the rest of his days there.

"You're looking better," said Bill. It was the usual breakfast fare, with the eldest of the Weasley children stopping in to check before he went off to Gringotts.

"Feeling better. The unexpected third side of the war has been neutralized," answered Jason, with a shrug. "The Ministry's a non-factor, and honestly, I'm still seriously considering sending a short missive to Tom, telling him to have at it. I won't stand in his way. I'm already considering a list of people I'd want to protect and so on, but Wizarding Britain as a whole? I'm just about done."

Bill simply gave a nod. He'd heard this before, after all. It was looking more and more like Jason was going to follow through with it. And to be perfectly honest, maybe that's exactly what they needed back home. "Where's Mace?"

"Still upstairs. Capa brought home some weird problem from his class, think they worked through the night. I keep forgetting he's just as much a scientist as Capa is, right?" Jason shook his head, but grinned. "I think they would've both gone into Ravenclaw."

"Capa, yeah, absolutely," Bill agreed, "But your partner? Pretty brave, might make a strong argument for Gryffindor."

"True. No, I still think he would've made Ravenclaw. Merlin, he's already picking up stuff I wasn't learning until third year."

"Remember though, he's getting one-on-one teaching. Am I right?"

"Fair enough." Jason glanced back at the paper. "Either way, I'm hoping we can move on with things now. I need to figure out what I want to do, that kind of thing."

"I think you'd make a fair teacher. You did teach nearly thirty students during your fifth year."

"Point taken. Still..."

"Not that you really need to worry about that sort of thing anyway. You'll find your calling."

Jason only gave a nod, shuffling the offensive paper aside, and turning his attention back to his breakfast. "Fair enough." He thought for a moment. "Seriously though. I want you guys to think about moving over here permanently. I'd like to have some friendly neighbours, y'know?"

"And it would be a lot safer, I agree. Mum and dad are already quite tempted to come here and spend Christmas... that's if you'll have us."

"Of course!" Jason's features momentarily darkened. "There'll be a few restrictions though."

"And I can guess what—or who, more like it. No worries, mum and dad aren't happy with Ginny or Percy right now as it is."

"Good, good. It'll be my first Christmas as a truly free man, so it'll be a real treat to have my true allies and friends around me."

"Couldn't agree more, Jason... couldn't agree more." Bill snagged a sausage off the platter at the centre of the table. "Either way, I gotta run... an eight-thirty appointment this morning and well... bank business and all."

"Right." Jason grinned. If it required Bill's attention, it was likely dangerous. "Have a great day."

Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the spot Bill had vanished from. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about that list. Who would he try and pry away from England? The Ministry six? Absolutely. The former D.A.? Perhaps. Some of them had still gave some rather scathing testimony during his farce of a trial four years prior. He couldn't see Dumbledore coercing all of them to turn against him, right? No, some of them had done so willingly.

Equally, he thought about what he might say to Voldemort. Could they come to some sort of agreement? Or was it just a pipe dream? After all, the man had murdered his parents. Neville's parents had been tortured to insanity on his orders. Countless others had been seriously injured or killed because of the Dark Lord. Could he honestly look those people the ones left behind in the eye, without feeling guilt?

His parents' words to him after the warding ritual came back to him instantly, specifically the words of his mother: "_We know the direction you're thinking of heading, and just know, even here in the afterlife, we support what you decide to do... all of us..._" That was the answer he needed. His parents would not be disappointed should he deal himself out of the war. He still hesitated, though. There was still a small piece of him not completely convinced of the sanity of such a decision. Until he was completely sure, he would not actually move.

* * *

_Early hours, Christmas Day, 2000_

It had been late before the household actually settled down, considering it was Christmas. Now, with dawn still several hours away, Mace found himself awakened by his partner smothering him in soft kisses.

"Um... Jason? 's too early," he muttered.

"Happy Christmas!" Jason exclaimed in response.

"O-kay then." Still, Mace had to smile, seeing Jason's enthusiasm, and the pair embraced tightly.

"If I didn't get another thing this year, I'd still be happy, 'cause I got you."

"Yeah and you know that's a load of B.S., all the gifts under the tree."

"They're not all for me though." Jason flopped back on his back, but turned to face his mate. "Can't wait for you to see what I got you."

"That's great. But really-" The door burst open, and Ron rushed into the room, only to stop dead, realizing the occupants were already awake. "Err... happy Christmas?" He looked rather sheepish.

"Happy Christmas, Ron. Now if you could let us get up and get dressed..."

"Um... right. Sorry." Jason's first friend made a hasty retreat, closing the door behind him.

It was still nearly a half-hour before the pair of them made their way downstairs. For them, getting ready involved more than just putting on clothes, after all, and it was a good thing the pair of them knew of a few cleaning charms... we'll leave it at that.

Breakfast was actually rather light—Jason had to virtually beg Kreacher not to go overboard with the preparations, pressing him to instead concentrate on dinner, since they would have a houseful for most of the day. So, breakfast fare that morning consisted of mostly cereal and toast, with coffee and juice. With Mace and Capa around, coffee had become a morning requirement. Jason couldn't stand the taste of it, preferring to stick with tea.

As they ate, others started filtering down from the extra rooms, or through the floo. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley arrived part way through, and Jason found himself snared in one of Molly's famous bone-crunching hugs. Bill had followed soon after, along with his wife, Fleur, and their one-and-a-half year old daughter, Victoire(1). Soon after that, Capa also made an appearance—he had been staying since the start of the Christmas holidays, much like Ron and Hermione.

In fact, there had been a lot of visitors since the winter holidays began on the 22nd. The Minister for Magic herself had paid them a visit, to Jason's surprise. Even more surprising, was learning she was a Muggleborn—something that would happen in England when hell froze over, he snorted in his head. The head of DMLE had also visited several times, although that was likely for a good reason: the Ministry did have a contingent of Aurors watching his property. And speaking of those, the group were also typical visitors during the day, usually during the change-over between shifts. That was another reason there was usually a fresh pot of coffee on the go. Jason had told them to 'help themselves'.

Sandra and Ty, naturally, called on the house quite frequently, since the legal proceedings were far from over. But that was all on hold at this point, as the group felt it best to just relax and put everything off until the beginning of the new year.

Back to the present, breakfast at last finished, and the now assembled group moved into the large front room, where the tree had been set up a few days before. Jason had originally just wanted a small tree, but the Weasleys wouldn't have any of it. If they were spending part of Christmas with their honorary eighth child, it had to be done right. So, the tree was enormous, the ornament on its top just about touching the ceiling. It was decorated with a mix of Muggle and magical ornaments—both Mace and Capa were amazed at the display when it was finished, although neither of them celebrated Christmas in itself. All the same, they appreciated it for what it was. Christmas or not, it was a time to be spent with close friends and family.

Everyone finally took their seats, while Mr. Weasley was already kneeling in front of the tree, pulling out a series of packages. Jason could already guess what they were, and to no surprise, Capa opened his to reveal a home-knit sweater. It was a grey-blue shade, with a black 'C' on its front.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, you're welcome, dear."

Mace's sweater was a maroon colour, with a gold 'M' on its front. He put it on at once, and thanked the Weasley matriarch with a soft smile.

"And thanks for mine," said Jason, pulling his on. It was identical to ones he received in the past, although this time, rather than an 'H', it was a 'J' on the front of it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ron opening his, and although he tried to look happy to get it, he was struggling.

Victoire, although still a little young to fully understand what was going on, still looked more than entertained at all the commotion around her. The Weasleys had of course bought her what looked like a boat-load of gifts, most of them being cute little outfits—Jason had to grin to himself, realizing he'd done practically the same thing. At the going rate, the little girl would want for nothing.

"All right. My turn then," said Jason, directing his wand at the pile of gifts. With a few simple movements, the items were all heading toward their intended. A particularly long box landed in Mace's lap. The guy arched an eyebrow, as he pulled the wrapping off of it, revealing a brand new Firebolt.

"A... Jesus Christ..."

"Like it?"

"Jason. I... wow."

"Since you already know how to fly... and although I don't mind sharing, thought it was fitting for you to have your own. Happy Christmas."

"Thank you." He leaned down, and kissed Jason on the forehead.

"Jason... this... this is too much," said Mrs. Weasley, staring at the single document she'd pulled out of an envelope.

"Nonsense. I want all of you to go somewhere nice, and forget about all the dragon shit going on for a while. As it stands, we'll be doing the same."

"I... well..."

"Thank you, Jason," Mr. Weasley finished, "I think we could all use a vacation all considering. I'll have to let my colleague in the department know, but it won't be much of an issue."

"You're welcome. You guys are my family... been my family practically, y'know. Just thought it would be nice to give back, do something nice for you and so on."

The floo firing interrupted further thoughts on the matter.

"Is there anyone there?" The accent was thick... Russian, Mace instantly thought.

"Viktor?" said Fleur, getting up. Jason had already crossed the room.

"If I might come through?"

"I'll have to get permission from the Ministry first," Jason answered, "Just... hang on a 'sec." He turned to Bill. "Send for Auror Morgan. I think he's at the front gate."

"I'll be right back." Bill popped away.

"You have Aurors vatching your property?" Viktor arched an eyebrow.

"Considering what happened in November, yeah," Jason answered. He smiled, though, and said, "Happy Christmas."

"And Happy Christmas to you. It has been too long."

Two pops announced the arrival of Bill and a crimson-cloaked Auror.

"Mr. Krum. An honour," said Morgan, seeing the burly face in the flames. "Jason. If you feel he is safe, by all means allow him through. I'll send word to Samantha we've got an extra guest here."

Jason gave a nod, quickly modified the access list, then said, "Come on through."

Viktor's head vanished from the fire, and only a second later, the flames roared a brilliant green, and a stocky wizard with broad shoulders stepped out of them. He had nearly black hair shorter than Mace, a straight nose, and sported a few days' growth on his face(2). He wore a dark brown sweater and black pants, and a heavy red cloak with a fur collar was slung over his shoulder.

"Merlin. What has you calling at our grate this morning?"

"It vos a surprise," Viktor answered, giving a nod toward Fleur.

"Well then. Come on in! Auror Morgan, you too—I insist!" Jason prodded, indicating extra spaces. "Kreacher?"

_Pop_. "Yes Master Jason?"

"If you would take Viktor's cloak for him."

"Of course." Kreacher bowed low, and Viktor let him take his cloak to hang up by the back door. Even that early in the day, the house already smelt wonderful from the cooking.

"I still have to floo call the Ministry and let them know we have an extra international visitor here," said Morgan.

"Right. Of course."

"Your security here... is tight, no?"

"Very much so," answered Jason, "Both here on the property, and just... everywhere, really. The Ministry here nearly went spare when... well, after what happened in November." He smiled. "Enough of that. Glad you came. Had I known you were coming, I would have got something. People keeping secrets and all..."

"Jason, it's all good, we can deal," said Mace.

"Err... right. Um... Viktor. My, my partner, Mace. Mace. A friend and former Tri-wizard Champion, Viktor Krum," Jason introduced. The pair shook hands, seemingly appraising each other a moment.

"Jason's told me a little about that tournament," said Mace, as they took seats again. He frowned. "How come you didn't ask Dumbledore about that while he was under Veritaserum?"

"It wasn't really relevant. And honestly, once he lost his magic... I had to be careful what sort of questions I asked him. Y'know, I think it was actually Dumbledore who put my name into the Goblet of Fire."

"How about we leave all those dark topics for another day, Har—Jason," Mrs. Weasley suggested. Jason was only happy to oblige.

"Then maybe we should go next," said George, getting up. "It's more of an announcement than anything."

"We're closing our shop in Diagon Alley," Fred continued, "And opening up a new shop in Simcoe Crossing in Toronto."

"Mum and dad think it might be safer if we moved here."

"Indeed, brother."

"That's brilliant," said Jason, "If you guys need a place—"

"We've already made the arrangements," answered George, "We'll be moving in a few days. Dobby's been rather helpful the past while."

"Is that so?" Jason only smirked, knowing how that would work.

It was then Auror Morgan pulled his head back out of the fire. "You're welcome to stay as long as you wish, Mr. Krum."

"Vell, thank you." Viktor inclined his head.

"It's a good thing the head of magical Culture is away, he'd insist on a visit I think," answered Morgan, as he conjured up his own seat.

"Why's that?" Mace dared ask.

"Right. Forgot," said Jason, "Viktor is-"

"Only the best seeker in the world!" Ron exclaimed, before biting the head off another chocolate frog he'd gotten.

"Quidditch," Mace remembered.

"You have not heard of Quidditch then," Viktor assumed.

"Oh, they've told me about it, but I've not actually seen it yet."

"We'll go when the weather's nicer," Jason promised, "Unless Ron might let us come see a match at _Upper Canada Academy_."

"Jason, you don't have to ask! Of course you'd be allowed," said Ron, a little shocked. "Bloody hell you're one of the most famous wizards in the world whether you like it or not!"

"Yeah, I know... just don't like to flaunt it, right?"

"All right, all right. My turn," said Mace, drawing everyone's attention back to the reason they were there. "Didn't have a lot of money, but... hope you like it." He reached out and pulled a medium-sized box from under the tree, and put it in front of Jason.

Jason pulled the wrapping off, and opened the box. He was momentarily confused at what was inside. It looked like leather... a pair of boots, and a vest. Both items were quite nice, very soft to the touch, having a very dark brown, almost black colour. He pulled both items out of the box, and quickly took off the shoes he was wearing to try on the boots. They were very nice.

"That is... dragon hide," Viktor noticed. Jason arched an eyebrow. The items were incredibly expensive then.

"Mace... how? This stuff would've cost a fortune."

"Bill helped me pick it out. Didn't really know what else, but... you like it?"

"Yeah, of course! It's brilliant... but it was expensive."

"Jason. I love you. It's all you need to know."

"I love you too." A tight embrace followed.

Lunch proved to be a noisy affair, as a few others dropped by to offer well-wishes and so on, resulting in the table needing to be expanded, along with the room. Given how far along Jason had come in his studies over the past few months, along with his additional power thanks to the syphoning of some of Dumbledore's power, he had no trouble pulling off the job. The dining room, which could normally seat eight comfortably, could now seat double the number.

Dinner, though, was the crowning achievement. Kreacher had been busy all day, virtually barring everyone from the kitchen. Jason had to smirk, thinking about the little surprise he had for the old house elf. He was a stark opposite to the nasty, vile thing he'd met five years prior now. He was beyond just a servant, he was a member of the family... exactly as it should be.

The table was piled high to overflowing with two turkeys, two hams, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, vegetables, and other typical fare for such a feast. There was chilled wine, beer, several kinds of juice, and butterbeer set in several chests of ice at opposite corners of the room. All in all, it looked marvellous—and it was.

As the meal was winding down, the noise level rising slightly, Jason smirked and cleared his throat.

"Right. So, uh... my first Christmas as an adult in my own home... being the host rather than the guest. Spent among friends and allies. It's been a dark few years for me, right? I know there's still a lot ahead of me, but... I think things can only get better from here. So..." He stood up, and held up his half-filled glass of wine. "A toast. To a brighter future."

"A brighter future," Mr. Weasley agreed, raising his glass.

"A brighter future," came the rest, as glasses were raised and clinked together.

"Now. I have one more gift to give out. Kreacher?"

Rather than popping in, the elf pattered in from the kitchen, a dish towel in his hands. "Yes, Master Jason?"

"I have something for you, since this is Christmas. But before I give it to you, I need you to understand that this is not a dismissal. You're not being sacked, understand?"

"Master Jason?"

"I think this will suit you much better than that tea towel you're wearing," said Jason, with a smile, as he pulled a small package out of his pocket, and tapped it with his wand, restoring it to its original size. He then passed it to the elder house elf, who opened it, and looked at it, confused.

"Master is giving me clothes?" he croaked out.

"No. This, is instead meant to be your uniform, rather than the tea towel you have about your waist."

"Master is... kind."

"I try to be. You've been right helpful these past few months, and then some. Kreacher, you're a member of the family more than you are a servant. This is one of the ways I can show you that. Understand?"

"Th-thank you, Master."

"You're welcome. And... good job on dinner. It was excellent," Jason beamed. Kreacher bowed low, careful not to upset the box he had, and disappeared with a not-so-noisy _pop_.

"Oh, Jason... that was beautiful," Hermione praised, her eyes glistening with tears.

"I've had that planned for about a month now," Jason answered, taking a seat. "Had to be careful though... last thing I wanted was him thinking he was being given clothes."

Viktor seemed to think on what he'd just seen a moment, then said, "You are a strange vizard, Jason Black."

"I guess I am. Rather be strange than to be feared though. When I first met Kreacher, he was a nightmare, simply because Sirius was terrible toward him. I treated him with respect, and I earned his respect back. I dunno where it came from, but somewhere along the line, someone got it in their head it was acceptable to be cruel to house elves. They're right smart, clever, sentient beings. He might be my property, but it doesn't give me the right to mistreat him."

"S.P.E.W. All over again," Ron muttered. That earned him a scowl and a swat from his wife.

"No. I don't want to free them... I think they'd go mental without having something to do. But still, house elves are sentient creatures with feelings. They can be scared, upset, angry, just like we can. I rest my case." That earned a warm smile from Hermione.

That night, it was a busy house, as most of the guests were invited to stay the night. The dining room was converted into a rough dormitory of sorts, with beds being transfigured out of chairs. The Aurors, of course, returned to their posts shortly after dinner, but it still remained a rather full house, with all of the Weasleys staying over, as was Viktor.

* * *

"A good Christmas then?" Mace asked, as they climbed into bed for the night.

"Best ever, I think. Having everyone here, especially you... just that alone, y'know?"

"I get it. Today was a bit nuts, but I was glad you enjoyed it. Not much for having a bunch of people around."

"I noticed that. Why not?"

"Dunno... just... before I met you anyway... I liked my own company, if that makes any sense."

"Yeah, I guess. You're a bit shy."

"Well... no, not like that. I just do better on my own—you being an exception now."

"Ah. Okay, now I understand. Maybe that's why you and Capa butted heads a lot."

Mace gave a nod as they settled close to one another. "Among other things. That, along with being stuck in a closed environment for eighteen months. I think had it been any other way... we probably wouldn't have met, and I might have Capa instead."

Jason only shook his head. The pair of them could have very well ended up together. He'd certainly seen the sidelong glances Capa sometimes cast toward Mace. It was harmless, since Capa knew where things stood. And, as it was, the young scientist was currently seeing a guy from a different department at the university. He would find someone one day. Jason once again whispered a silent thank you to whatever deity it was who dropped the strange hourglass into his lap. Without it, he would likely be still locked up in Azkaban. No, the strange hourglass had made all the difference in the world, and it was perhaps the best Christmas gift he could have got. It was those thoughts which took him off to the bliss of sleep, secure in the arms of his muscular partner.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: Up next... New Year's celebrations go awry..._

_This chapter felt like pulling teeth. Yes, Jason had a lot of people over for Christmas, but this was his first as an adult, his first in his own home & so on, so it was only natural he would want some of his closest friends nearby—along with a few unexpected, but equal friends, right?_

_Viktor is most certainly a friend and an ally of Jason's, nothing more. All the same, he is most certainly a capable wizard—he was a Tri-wizard champion, after all. We'll be seeing him for a while here._

_(1) According to the HP Lexicon, Victoire was born about a year after the battle of Hogwarts, so that would make her roughly a year and a half here (December of 2000). Not crazy about Bill/Fleur, but easier just to stay with canon rather than invent someone._

_(2) Going with the movie-verse here. I thought Stan Ianevski played the role of Viktor perfectly, so we'll stay with that, right?_


	18. A Dark Beginning to the New Year

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted July 12, 2012._

* * *

**18: A DARK BEGINNING TO THE NEW YEAR**

* * *

New Year's Eve was upon them in what seemed like the blink of an eye, passed in the haze of visitors, food, drink, and merriment. At this point Jason was silently thanking everything holy that this was the last night of such celebrations. He'd ended up pissed at least three times, and the morning-after effects were most unpleasant. His boyfriend's mirth at his misfortune was also starting to grate on him a little. Jason made a silent promise to repay the guy in kind somehow.

That afternoon, Jason was once again shocked, as the floo fired, and the face of his former potions professor appeared in the flames.

"Potter... or Black, should I say?"

"Professor. Happy Christmas, sir," Jason greeted, deciding to be polite.

"If I might come through," said Snape. Jason looked around at Auror Morgan, who gave a nod.

"Of course. Give me a moment to adjust the wards."

Snape gave a curt nod, and vanished out of the fire. Jason quickly modified the wards, and only seconds later, the surly potions master stepped out of the grate, dusting the ashes off his clothes.

"You have received the two text books I sent with Weasley?"

"Yes sir," answered Jason, "And thank you, they've been very helpful. I should also say thanks for your testimony at both of my hearings."

"Indeed. Dumbledore violated your mothers memory locking you away in Azkaban."

"My dad's too-"

"You have your mother's eyes."

Jason blinked. "Who are you and what have you done with Professor Snape?"

"The headmaster is guilty of many things, Black. Things I myself am still coming to terms with. I need not say how truly powerful he was."

"He put memory charms on you too?"

"Indeed, if only part of the equation. His actions have caused me to sully your mother's memory with my treatment toward you."

"Ah. And the picture becomes clearer. Apology accepted, professor. The depravity of the former headmaster seems to know no end."

Jason thought for a moment.

"Professor McGonagall is headmistress now?"

"She is. She wishes me to become deputy."

"Good, good. Though I can't believe I'm saying that," said Jason, with a smirk, "All I know, is the school's in good hands now."

"The headmistress also passes on the message that, should you wish to return for your sixth year in September-"

"I'm probably half-way to my NEWT exams, professor. Unlikely I'll ever return as a student, if at all," Jason answered.

"I do admit, I did miss having you in my class. You were a fair student, I can now freely tell you."

"Why couldn't you before?" Mace dared enter the conversation.

"He couldn't," answered Jason, already understanding what had happened. "Just like Ron and Hermione had compulsion and memory charms. With Professor Snape, it was likely much sooner." He thought for a moment. "Professor, my partner, James Mace. Mace... Professor Severus Snape." The pair briefly shook hands.

"Jason's told me about you. But... guess I really can't be pissed at you considering," said Mace, with a shrug.

"As you are likely very much aware at this point, magic can be used in many ways, not all of them good."

"Yeah, I've seen that much."

"Which brings me back to one of the points of my visit. You have been visited by Ministry instructors who have been teaching you Occlumency?"

"Yes sir."

"How far along?"

"I can keep him out indefinitely at this point. But sir... there's something else. I don't think Occlumency would have helped against Voldemort."

"Don't say his name, Mr. Black. And why not?" Snape questioned.

"My link back to him... to Tom... it was a Horcrux."

Snape closed his eyes a moment.

"The Dark Lord has created Horcruxes." It was not a question.

"At least three of them, likely more."

Snape looked furious. "That meddling bastard. Occlumency would only further strengthen such a connection, rather than close it. You have my deepest apologies."

"It means a lot from you, sir," said Jason, with an incline of the head. "Thing is, he's gone, the Horcrux is gone, thanks to my mate, and I've learned enough on how to protect my thoughts and memories."

"If I might test you."

"Sure."

Snape drew his wand, and pointed it at Jason. "_Legilimens_."

The professor was taken aback at what he found. Rather than the stream of memories he'd been able to pluck out of the young wizard's head last time he'd been able to do this, he found himself being pressured from all sides, by a most oppressive haze of sorts. The temperature seemed to fall by the second... and a sense of dread was becoming nearly too much to bear. It was as if...

Snape withdrew at once, his usual mask of indifference almost slipping from the shock.

"Most unpleasant?"

"Indeed. If I didn't know different, I would say I just experienced a Dementor."

"Good. Exactly what I'd wanted. My instructor suggested I use that technique, given my personal experience around them."

"Yes. You have been taught well. I do regret I wasn't able to teach you in the same manner."

"I know who to blame for that one, professor."

"I do need to get back to the castle. Unusual amount of students remained over the holidays."

"Of course. Thanks for dropping by, sir."

"Indeed. And Black. Your mother would be very proud of you."

"I already know, sir."

Snape arched an eyebrow, but activated the floo. He was gone moments later.

"Well. That was interesting."

"Thought you said he was an asshole," said Mace.

"Because of Dumbledore, though. So I don't blame him for anything now, really. My dad didn't make things easy, but Merlin's pants! Still amazes me how much Dumbledore fucked things up. My time as a student at Hogwarts would have been so much easier without him being a git, y'know."

That evening, they held a party to welcome the new year, this time held outside, behind the house. The snow had been cleared away from the patio area, with a broad heating charm applied against the chilly winter air. The past couple of weeks had been bone-chilling to say the least—Mace had been extra appreciative of the warm sweater Mrs. Weasley had made for him.

Once again, Kreacher had come through in a big way, providing enough snacks and party favours to feed an army. A large table had been set up against the house, and the stereo had been brought out to provide the music. There had been debate about bringing out a Wizarding wireless, but Jason nixed the idea. The programming on the Muggle radio was fine.

The evening wore on, and Jason slowly lost track of the time, indulging in more than a few of Mace's beers. This time, however, he'd remembered to adequately stock the potions cabinet with a decent number of anti-hangover remedies, along with a few sobriety draughts for good measure. In fact, he barely registered anything as Mace collected him and kissed him softly, whispering, "Happy new year."

* * *

_Early hours of January 1, 2001_

Jason awoke with a start. Something had just pinged off the wards. Something unfriendly.

"Jason?"

"_Accio_ anti-hangover draught," Jason whispered, his wand already pointed toward the general area of the potions cabinet. His head was pounding.

"What's wrong?"

"Dunno. Something just pinged off the wards... doesn't feel-"

BANG! "Jason! Lock down the house, NOW!" came Bill's alarmed voice.

"Got it. Floo as well," Jason answered, as the potion he'd called for sailed into his hand.

He popped the cork, and downed the nasty concoction.

"_Tempus_," he whispered, and '3:25a' wafted from the tip of his wand. "Someone's trying to break through the wards. Bill! Send a Patronus to the Ministry, just in case."

"Already did."

Bill was then standing at the doorway to the room, wand already drawn.

"Jesus Christ," Mace muttered, looking out the window. Colourful flashes of light could be seen to the southwest.

"What?"

"Look." Mace pointed out the colourful light display.

"Magical fight. They haven't breached the wards, but they're trying—ow." Jason winced, as another virtual blast was recorded in his mind's eye.

"Security chamber. Now," Mace decided. Jason went to protest, but his partner was right.

"_Sonorus_," Jason whispered, touching his wand to his throat, "Everyone to the cellar straight away, please. _Quietus_."

Taking his wand away from his throat, he then intoned, "_Expecto Patronum_." To his Patronus, he spoke, "_House in lock down. Gone into security chamber. Summon Fawkes to send all clear._" Then, "To Sandra Fraser." The silvery stag bounded out the window, and vanished. "Let's go."

In the cellar, they found everyone gathered, most having grabbed some clothes beforehand. Mace touched several of the bricks in one corner, opening the passage. "C'mon, in here." Lamps were already coming to life, illuminating a downward-sloping tunnel, built not long before the start of the holidays by a goblin excavation team.

"Vot is this place?" Viktor dared ask, as the group began to make their way through the tunnel.

"Just wait 'till we get inside," Mace answered.

"Kreacher, come here," Jason called. The elf popped into view, still wearing the smart little uniform he'd been given for Christmas. "Master Jason call for Kreacher?"

"Stay close to me, we're going somewhere you can't apparate," Jason explained, as they too stepped through the opening. Being the last ones through, Jason tapped a second set of bricks with his wand, and the hole closed itself up, looking as if the wall had not been disturbed.

The security chamber, as Mace called it, was his own pet project he'd been working on since the attack in November. Bill had certainly helped out with the layering of wards and protections, agreeing fully with the idea. It was still not entirely complete, as far as final amenities were concerned, but the structure itself was done, as was its function. For now, there was enough room for twenty people, and rations to last about a week. Those supplies were still being worked on, as Mace thought it would be better to have a six months' supply at a minimum.

The chamber had been layered with a number of impervious charms, anti-magic charms, heat-shield charms, anti-apparition wards, anti-port key wards, and a special ward that prevented house elf apparition as well. Kreacher would have to enter or leave the chamber like everyone else.

The central chamber was a bit higher than the cellar was, with the floor, walls, and ceiling made of stone. Three rooms led off of it—a small kitchen, and two bathrooms. The rest of the chamber was set up somewhat like a dormitory, with beds for twenty people, namely, ten single bunk beds.

"Sorry it's not the most comfortable," Mace apologized, "Didn't think we'd be using it this soon."

"Don't worry about it," said Jason, "Good thing we have it. Dunno if they could get through the wards or not, but... better safe than not. Rather not have a repeat of November."

"Yeah, agreed."

"You're sure we'll be safe here?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Her husband was already transfiguring one of the bunk beds into a larger double sized bed for them.

"Perfectly, mum," answered Bill, "The wall where we came in is warded to mask the fact any sort of construction happened there. Unless the intruders know what they're looking for, they won't find the entrance." He gestured with his wand, also changing a bunk bed into a double for him and his wife. Another was converted into a much smaller bed for their daughter.

"How will we do for food, then?"

"Enough for a week," answered Mace, "I'd hoped to have more, but... shit... didn't expect us to need this so soon."

"Good job all the same," Mr. Weasley said, "Though we might have been safe to go to the ministry here..."

"We can't be sure though," Mace countered, "I haven't been in your world long enough, but God... the shit that's going on, who's to say the Ministry isn't compromised?"

"It's why I sent a Patronus message to my attorney before we came in here. Once it's all clear, she'll summon Fawkes and pass word."

"Let's just get some sleep, it's still the wee hours of the morning," Hermione suggested, "Nothing else we can do now."

"Agreed." Jason had also transfigured a bunk into a more appropriate bed for him and his partner, and sat on the edge of it. "Fuck, what a way to start off the new year..." he muttered."

Mace shook his head. "Magnet for trouble."

Hours later, Jason was awakened by something sitting on his chest, and rubbing his face. He opened his eyes to find Fawkes to be the culprit. He'd brought a paper, by the looks of it.

"'lo, Fawkes." His greeting was answered by a happy trill.

"Fawkes... that means-" Mace began, but Jason only shook his head. "Dunno yet." Fawkes left the paper on his chest, and fluttered over to rest on a vacant bunk. Jason sat up, and looked at the paper. There was a page of parchment rolled up with it. "_Stay where you are. Canadian borders shut tight, floo network for official business only. Will send further word as we get it. S.F._," he read.

"Sounds bad," Mace guessed.

"Repeat of November by the sound of it," Jason guessed, "No apparition, no port keys, no floo network... they mean business."

"That today's paper?"

"No. Yesterday's," said Jason, tossing the paper aside.

"My parents... I have no way of telling them vot has happened," said Viktor, concerned.

"It probably won't take long to reach across the pond, mate," said Ron, sleepily, "It's probably Voldemort, my guess."

"If he did, it wouldn't be all that bright. The Canadian Ministry would love to have a go at him, I think," said Jason, darkly, "But Ron's right. Although, you could send a message with Fawkes."

"I vould like that."

"Did you bring down any parchment?"

"Yeah, I think... that cabinet... should be some, if I remember," said Mace. Jason simply gestured at the cabinet. "_Accio_ parchment and quill."

The items floated across the room to land in Jason's hand, and he passed them over to Viktor. The foreign wizard scratched out a quick missive, and folded the parchment over, before handing it back. Fawkes had already fluttered over, and Jason let him take the letter in his outstretched claw. "To Viktor's mum and dad, wait for a response if they have one." The bird flashed away.

"The Dark Lord has been sending missives," said Viktor, his features darkening, "Vonts us all to join his army. Fleur sending her invitation... vos most timely."

"So there were ulterior motives to you coming," said Capa, from a bunk across the room.

"Yes, there vos. To avoid another note from him. There is a vor coming, I vont no part of it."

"Stay here then. We've got loads of room," Jason decided, "I mean... I guess it goes part and parcel to something I was gonna ask all of you anyway. Viktor's right. There is a war coming. I dunno how Fudge has managed to hold him off this long... but really... it's just a matter of time before Voldemort takes over the Ministry. That said, I would feel a whole lot better if those I care about were here rather than there, in harm's way. I'm willing to foot the bill to make sure you're all safe."

"Harry—Jason, as much as we appreciate the offer—"

"No, Molly. He's right," said Mr. Weasley, "There comes a time when we have to take care of our own rather than fight the good fight. Even Fred and George realize this." He looked at Jason. "We'll be glad to accept."

"Likewise," said Bill, "Particularly now we have this little wonder to think about." He gestured toward Victoire, still sound asleep in her small bed.

"And vot about my family?" questioned Viktor.

"I can make sure they're safe as well. I'll need to get in touch with my attorney again, but... my fame has some use here with the Ministry and all."

"You don't plan on fighting the Dark Lord, then."

"I dunno, Viktor. I just... the English Wizarding world wants a hero and a martyr, not a leader. They worship the ground I walk on one moment, then brand me an attention-seeker, liar, murderer, dark wizard, the next."

Viktor seemed to think on this a moment, then gave a slow nod, although he furrowed his brows. "It is not right, vot they have done to you. I suppose it is only a fair expectation, your reaction. I can not fault you for that decision."

"Thanks. Though I haven't made a firm decision yet. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"The other shoe?" Viktor was confused.

"I have a gut feeling... Wizarding Britain isn't done with me yet. They'll have one more crack at me before they learn... even after whatever this—going on outside—is."

"Oh."

"Of course, if whatever going on outside IS caused by British witches and wizards, I really pity them. Canada was about ready to go to war with them LAST time they pulled a stunt like this."

Jason blew out a breath, then laid back down.

"Thing is, we need a list of anyone who is an ally. In a nutshell, anyone who spoke out FOR me during my original trial, or anyone who can prove they were coerced by the meddling old headmaster to speak out against me. Luna and her father, for example. I'll help them relocate their press and all, if necessary. Neville and his gran. That's five of the Ministry six."

"We'll send a letter to Charlie," said Mrs. Weasley, "He might be okay in Romania, but, better safe than sorry."

"Hermione, do you still have the list we made for the D.A.?"

"I think so. I'll have to look for it. What for?"

"The D.A. A number of them did speak up for me, right? Would you remember who?"

"If I can find the list, yes."

"Good. The D.A. Stood up to the Ministry, and equally, to Voldemort. They stood beside me, not behind me, looking for a leader and not a martyr or a hero. Those are the kind of people I'm willing to save."

He exhaled loudly, then folded his hands across his chest.

"Really wonderful way to start the new year," he said sarcastically.

"Meh, you had a good time last night though," said Capa. He didn't have to see him to know he was smirking.

"Too much beer, maybe."

"Yes, about that, Mr. Black," Viktor scowled, "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Vell..."

"Oh, THAT," Hermione let out a giggle. She remembered it quite well, as did just about everyone else in the room. Jason looked over at Mace, who was also smirking.

"I am rather possessive, y'know. I'm just not brave enough to cross wands with him." Mace cast a glance over at Viktor, who was still scowling.

Jason had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut. "But... okay, seriously guys... what... what did I do?"

"What do we do on a regular basis?" Mace questioned, still smirking.

"But... Oh Merlin..." Jason felt his face get very hot, as the final pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

"At least there were no cameras present," Ron pointed out. That earned a rude gesture from Jason, and another scowl from Viktor.

"Yeah. Last thing either of us need. Fucking scandal that would cause—though I'd just let Sandra have at them."

He rolled over to face the Bulgarian.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to act like an ass. Merlin, I must've been really out of it then."

"But you two looked adorable together," Ron teased, "I mean, I think Mace was about ready to join in at one point."

"Could show them a pensieve memory later," said George, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Indeed, brother of mine," Fred threw in, "Patronus-worthy memory indeed!"

"Vell... let's not even _begin_ to talk about vot you two vos doing," Viktor scowled, "Vill _pay_ someone to memory charm _that_ avay." That had both Fred and George looking mortified, while Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were looking oddly at their twin sons. Did they _really_ want to know? Viktor, meanwhile, flopped back over so he was facing away, and huffed.

Jason, of course, quickly added things up. Fred and George... snogging? He burst out laughing.

"What?" Mace asked.

"Just... oh, that's right twisted, guys! Oh Merlin..." He roared with laughter again. Leave it to the twins to continuously find ways to apply shock-value.

"To their credit, there was a lot of alcohol last night," said Capa.

"Still... just... oh my God... wow."

"Well, you did have a good snogging session with Viktor," Fred rebutted, the smirk back on his face.

"He's not my brother though," Jason smirked right back.

Both Mr. And Mrs. Weasley looked mortified, as it finally sunk in.

"Though I do have to ask, what would Angelina and Katie have to say?"

"We proclaim ignorance!" George mock-protested, "It was a moment of weakness!"

"Yeah, we were overcome by lust!" Fred threw in.

"But..."

"Mrs. Weasley, I strongly doubt Fred and George are in any sort of relationship with each other," said Jason, with a scowl of his own, "Think about it."

"He's right, mum. C'mon, they do have girlfriends," said Bill, seeing his mother about to get up a head of steam.

Last thing they needed was for her to unload on her sons for something that was rather comical in a way. Although, Viktor did have a point. Even Bill had to agree... he'd seen his brothers' escapades the previous evening, something he could do without. It was a good thing Victoire was too young to remember such things... she would have been scarred for life.

It was almost noon hour before Fawkes reappeared bringing another note. "_All clear. Fire-call soon as you can, we'll meet. S.F._" Jason at once reopened the hidden gateway back into the house, and the large group recollected in the dining room. The house had not been damaged in any way, and a quick mental probe of the wards indicated everything was still solidly intact. Whoever it was trying to break through had failed spectacularly.

Jason quickly reopened the floo connection, then fire-called Sandra. She came back through less than a minute later.

"Happy New Year, Jason. Though I wish it were on better terms," said Sandra, as she and Ty followed Jason into the dining room.

"So do I. Bloody hell... not the way to start off the new year. Sorry you got dragged into the office when it should be your holiday."

"No worries. First question, is everyone all right?"

"They didn't get into the house," answered Jason. Kreacher had already vanished into the kitchen, to no doubt prepare an extra large lunch.

"Good, good. Good to hear."

_Pop_. Auror Morgan appeared, looking a little out of sorts. His robes were tattered in several places, and his face was scratched, blood oozing out of a small cut on his neck.

"Merlin. Let me-" Jason began to stand, worried about the guy, but he was waved off.

"I'll get looked after soon enough. Just makin' sure the lot of you are safe."

"We're okay. The wards held, and we went into the security chamber," Jason answered. "Did you guys learn who it was?"

"No, afraid not. We had one guy in custody, he suddenly died. Found traces of basilisk venom in his system."

"Cowards, the lot of them," Jason snorted, "Didn't Dumbledore have something like that hidden in his mouth?"

"They're using poison caplets then. Something out of a James Bond movie," said Capa.

"James Bond? Who's that?" Ron dared ask.

"Fictional spy character," said Capa, "Sometimes the bad guys would put poison pills or caplets under their tongue, right... so if they were captured, they couldn't be questioned."

"We'll keep that in mind for next time. Though I would've thought stunning hexes would've done sufficient."

"Did anyone have the Dark Mark?"

"No. Only caught two, neither of them did."

"Could be unmarked sympathizers," Mace guessed, to which Jason gave a nod. "True enough. Not all his followers are marked. This still feels like a Death Eater attack."

"Interesting that this happened only hours after he showed up," said Ron, gesturing to Viktor.

"And vot are you suggesting?"

"You had to know where Jason lives. How do we know-"

"Guys. Enough. Viktor is not working for Voldemort," said Jason, firmly.

"I take exception to that!" Viktor snapped, "My grandfather was murdered by a dark vizard! I vold _die_ rather than join him!"

"All the answer I need, though again... I already knew. Ron, c'mon. Don't be so thick. And besides. If he meant us any harm, he wouldn't have been able to get into the house. So drop it."

Ron looked rather sheepish. "Sorry."

"Very vell," said Viktor, gruffly, still scowling. He stood up, and his features softened. "It is time for me to return home. It was kind of you to invite me."

"Good of you to come, Viktor. You're welcome anytime," said Jason, also standing. "I'll get your cloak, since I suspect Kreacher is cooking up a storm again. Sure you won't stay for dinner?"

"No, it best I get back."

"All right then." Jason cast a dark look at Ron, then stepped through the kitchen and retrieved Viktor's cloak. "Um... you're of course on that list we were talking about earlier."

"I know."

"Thanks for coming, Viktor." Fleur had also got up, and joined them at the fireplace. She gripped the wizard's hand, and kissed it. He then activated the fire, and called out some place in his own language. Only, the floo did nothing.

"You are sure this is vorking?"

"Something's wrong?" Sandra was standing at the archway leading into the dining room.

"Floo didn't work. Did they reopen the international connection?"

"Positive they did, Jason. The all-clear was across the board."

"Try it again."

"I vill try someplace else," Viktor decided, and activated the floo again, this time calling, "Bulgaria, Ministry of Magic." This time, the fire roared to life, and he stepped through.

"Right. C'mon, still have things to go over I think," said Jason.

"Didn't mean to, y'know..." said Ron, looking a little sheepish.

"I know... but God... just... try and think before you engage your mouth."

Jason went to sit down, when there came another WHOOSH from the fireplace.

"Shit. Now what?" Jason expected Aurors or something of the like, all considering.

Instead, Viktor appeared, looking dishevelled, like he'd just been in a duel.

"Shit," was all Jason could say.

"The Dark Lord... attacking the ministry," he muttered, practically collapsing into a chair.

"This is bad..." Ron muttered.

"We knew it would come to this eventually." The floo fired again. "Hello?" Professor McGonagall's voice echoed in the room. Jason got up, and stepped into the living room. "Professor?"

"You need to know, Black. The Ministry's under siege."

"We sort of guessed. The Bulgarian Ministry's under attack as well," said Jason.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Viktor Krum's been staying with us. He just tried to get home."

"I see."

"We were also attacked here this morning... still sorting through what happened."

"Were you injured?"

"No, professor. The wards held." Jason stepped back a moment. "Sandra!"

"Something happened?" Sandra questioned, then, "Good afternoon, Professor."

"Wish it was, Miss Fraser."

"We're gonna need to get moving quickly on that list, I think," said Jason.

"What sort of list?" McGonagall questioned.

"A safe list. A bunch of people I plan to protect."

"Do you have the list compiled?" Sandra asked.

"No. We were discussing it this morning while we were in the security chamber."

"You plan to bring people over here," Sandra guessed, to which Jason nodded.

"And you plan to just-" The fire suddenly returned to its normal state.

"Professor?"

"The international connection was likely severed again." Auror Morgan was then standing at the archway into the dining room. "I've sent a Patronus to the Ministry asking what's going on."

"Let's get back into the dining room so we can sort this out."

There, Jason was not surprised to find Mrs. Weasley looking after Viktor, an empty vial sitting in front of him. Did Jason truly want to know what happened? Viktor of course, told them anyway. "Dark vizards... attacked me as soon as I stepped out of the fire. Could barely get back through."

"Death Eaters," Jason guessed, to which Viktor nodded grimly.

"Why would they attack Bulgaria, though?" came Mace's question.

"I dunno," said Jason, frustrated, "Voldemort has never really made a lot of sense, right?"

"Unless he knew."

"Knew what, Mace?"

"Unless he knew somehow, that Viktor was here. Strike out at your allies, that sort of thing."

"He's right," Hermione agreed, "It would scare people thinking of siding with Jason."

"Really need that list, Hermione."

"I'll see if it's upstairs." Hermione pushed her chair back and got up. Ron was quick to follow her out of the room.

"Can the Ministry provide an extra Auror or two? One for Capa while he's at the university, and a pair for Ron at the school."

"Won't be needed at Upper Canada Academy. Minister's already ordered a detachment to take up security positions there. Jason, the government is moving into a wartime posture," Morgan explained.

"Politically, Tom Riddle may have just made a catastrophic blunder as it is," Sandra spoke up, "Opening up aggressive actions on foreign soil. The ICW will not react well."

"No, they won't. And considering this morning. The government is still in discussion about how to respond. We still haven't determined exactly who it was who attacked this morning. I don't need to say, the government will react harshly."

"What about the non-magical government? How much do they know about what's going on?" Capa dared ask.

"The Prime Minister is certainly aware, as are a few others," answered Morgan, "The head of the RCMP for instance. We're in regular contact with our Muggle counterparts."

"But the statute..."

"Is perfectly sound, Mrs. Weasley," answered Sandra, "Anyone non-magical who is told about the magical world have secrecy charms placed on them."

"Molly. Their world works slightly differently than ours," said Mr. Weasley, "And perhaps for the better."

"Which is why I'm more than happy to live out the rest of my life here, rather than back in Britain," said Jason, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "The immediate issue. Viktor, you're quite welcome to stay here long as you need."

"Further arrangements can be made if necessary," said Sandra, "Given you're a friend of Jason's, along with your status as it is."

Viktor inclined his head. "Thank you."

Hermione returned nearly twenty minutes later, with the aforementioned parchment containing the original membership of Dumbledore's Army. Hermione had already drawn a line through several names, one of which being Ginny. The rest, however, required a lengthy discussion which continued through dinner and well into the evening. In the end, it was decided everyone would be invited, save for the few who were unquestionably disloyal. They would be questioned under Veritaserum, and those found to be untrustworthy would have their memories modified and that would be the end of it. Those found to be trustworthy would be offered sanctuary away from England, no matter what Jason decided to do concerning Voldemort.

The dessert had at last been finished, and Auror Morgan was saying his good-byes for the night, when there came a tapping at the dining room window. Ron was closest, and so he opened the window to let the bird in. It swooped overhead a moment, then fluttered down in front of Viktor, and dropped a letter into his lap, then took off from whence it came. Viktor quickly opened the parchment, and his face seemed to lose its colour as he read the contents.

"What is it?" Jason dared ask. Viktor said nothing, but he was actually shaking. He slammed a fist down on the table, then thrust his chair back, practically flew out of it, and stormed out of the room. Seconds later, the back door slammed.

"I'll see to him," said Mrs. Weasley, getting up.

Jason, meanwhile, easily put the pieces together. Even five years ago, Viktor was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Something to rattle the guy that much? And considering the Bulgarian Ministry had been attacked... someone close to him had been killed. Parents, maybe? He felt like banging his head on the table. "And this gets better and better," he snorted.

* * *

It was late the following morning before they saw Viktor again. The guy still looked in shock, but Jason did need to know what happened.

"It vos... a notice. Mother and father... killed at the ministry yesterday," Viktor answered, defeated, his accent even more prevalent.

"Whatever you need... just ask."

"Do not... change your plans... because of me." Viktor looked Jason in the eye. "It is... terrible thing, vot happened. But it is... expected. This is vot they do. My grandfather, you know."

"I..."

"See to yourself, Jason. That is more important."

Jason gave a nod, and gripped his slightly taller friend on the shoulder. "And those who matter." He thought for a moment. "Sandra can help you out with... y'know... getting your estate in order."

"I vold like that."

"My Occlumency instructor is also a mind healer. If you... need someone to listen—not that I wouldn't offer... sometimes it helps to talk to a pro, if you get what I mean."

"That... not ready for that just now."

"I know what it's like... with Cedric, y'know. Worst thing was, I had no one to talk to. Instead I was tormented by nightmares for half the summer... and even now, sometimes."

"Yes, the two of you vere close, I remember."

"Thing is, unlike me, you're not alone. I can't say I have all the answers... no one does, really, right? But to have someone to just listen... makes all the difference in the world. It's one of the things Cedric was good at... and now it's Mace... maybe even more so."

"He is good for you."

"A few years older than me, but so was Cedric. Thing is, like I said. When you need someone to talk to... come find me... or Hermione, or Mrs. Weasley even. And seriously. A mind-healer. Don't put it off."

"I... I know."

The _National Wizard's Standard_ summed things up quite nicely. Several large photos took up the top part of the paper, showing the aftermath of a few locations: Diagon Alley, the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, and the edge of Jason's property. The battle in Diagon Alley had been a stalemate, with both sides taking losses. The Dark side now effectively controlled the Bulgarian government. Only the battle near Jason's home had resulted in a light-side victory. And the exact origin of the attack was still in question. 'DARK BEGINNING TO NEW YEAR', the headline read, with a smaller line, '_Dark Lord flexes muscles, Bulgarian Ministry, Durmstrang fall under his control_'

_The Dark Lord Voldemort attacked several key locations yesterday, including Diagon Alley in London, the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, as well as Durmstrang Institute (one of three European Magical schools), along with a half-dozen lesser targets. The offensive at the Bulgarian Ministry resulted in the deaths of numerous prominent Bulgarian witches and wizards, including their Minister for Magic, and most high-ranking department heads. Also included among the dead are Radko and Antonia Krum, notably the parents of international Quidditch player Viktor Krum. The young man's whereabouts is still unaccounted for at time of publication._

_A further attack was also perpetrated against the Black estate in Southwestern Ontario, according to a spokeswitch from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This resulted in the disruption of most methods of magical travel yesterday morning for nearly seven hours, while the Ministry responded to the attack. At time of publication, the Ministry has not commented on the individuals responsible for the attack._

_However, the Minister of Magic has released a short statement informing us there will be a press conference at noon hour today, wherein the events of yesterday morning will be addressed, as will the Ministry's intended response. Further... (continued on p.2)_

_Minister's brief message, p.3_

_Timeline of events, p.3_

_Are we at war? Editorial, p.10_

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: Awww, isn't alcohol fun at times? I think I establish, all the same, Fred and George love each other, just not in THAT way. And no, Harry/Jason will not be having a relationship with more than one person this time around. Viktor is most definitely straight, and will remain that way._

_Up next... we find out what Ginny's been up to, and needless to say, Harry/Jason isn't gonna be happy about it._


	19. One Step Too Far

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted July 19, 2012._

* * *

**19. ONE STEP TOO FAR**

* * *

_January 5, 2001_

"Check mate," Capa declared, triumphantly.

"Bloody hell, it's hopeless!" Ron finally exclaimed. They'd been playing chess all afternoon, and only twice had he even come close to defeating his opponent.

"I daresay, our little bro's finally met his match," George smirked. He and his twin were on the larger couch, messing about with what looked like an ordinary crumpet they'd pilfered from the kitchen.

"I concur, brother of mine. Perhaps he should play with his Wizarding set instead, might prove more helpful."

"Yeah but it cheats," said Capa, as they reset the board for another round.

"It does not!"

"Yes it does," said Jason. He and Mace were cramped—or cuddled, more like it, in one of the large armchairs in the opposite corner of the room. Kreacher had taken the tree down a few nights before, and so the room was relatively back to normal. "And guys... if you blow up the room doing whatever you're doing, you're cleaning it up."

"If you'd add us another room, we could do this in private... considering Kreacher's got the table in the dining room set up for dinner already," said George.

"Yeah, with Viktor claiming the spare room and all."

"I'll look into it. If we're continuously having visitors over... and with the list... really need to come up with a long-term solution. People need privacy, including us."

"That realtor who got us the property here... he was awesome," Mace remembered, "I know he did something to the people living here before us... am I right?"

"Wouldn't doubt it."

"So what if we, um... somehow bought up the other property around? Everyone have their own place, shit like that."

"Hmmm... Probably don't need to go to that extreme. But I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would appreciate a new place. Guess we'll need to talk to Sandra again." Jason thought for a moment. "Not today. Monday. She's been right helpful with everything, but really, everyone needs a break now and then."

A door slamming had everyone looking toward the dining room, and a few moments later, Viktor entered, looking weary and grumpy. He'd been off to see a mind-healer three times already, this making it four. Still, he was having trouble dealing with the chaos surrounding his parents' murders. He claimed the only vacant seat, and let out a sigh.

Jason reached over and put a hand on the guy's shoulder. "All right there?"

"Yes and no. It vos... I should have been there."

"Probably wouldn't have made any difference, mate. They likely would've killed you too. You... and me both for that matter... best thing we can do is live, survive. Doing so we defy those responsible... and we honour our parents. Tell me I'm wrong."

"No... I... it makes sense."

"Your parents wait for you on the other side now... just like my parents, Sirius... and Cedric are waiting for me. And I know... our parents are proud of what we are, what we've become. See, I talked to my parents recently—I won't get into how... but they told me something that I'll never forget." Jason pointed a finger at Viktor's heart. "Your mum and dad are always with you. They live inside of us... right there... so they're not really gone, see?"

Viktor seemed to think on this logic for a moment, and gave a weak smile. Somehow, he knew Jason's logic to be the truth. "Jason Black, you are vizer than your years."

"I try to be." Jason gave his friend a warm smile.

Further conversation was interrupted, as another owl demanded to be let into the house. This time, it fluttered over to Jason, and dropped a rolled up magazine into his lap. There was also a letter attached. Jason opened it first.

_Mr. Black,_

_I felt it prudent you see this. The Order is investigating how this came to be, seeing as you have not been in the country since June. I would suggest getting in contact with your solicitor at once._

_S. Snape_

"What sort of nonsense..."

"Have a look."

Mace had unrolled the magazine. It was the current edition of _Witch Weekly_, and the cover featured a rather pregnant Ginerva Weasley. She was all aglow, displaying her growing belly rather prominently.

"Oh great. The bint's got herself pregnant somehow," Jason muttered.

"She did?" Both Fred and George got up to have a look.

"Pity the bloke," Ron grinned. His expression soured. "Considering what she did to Harry—Jason, I mean. Still can't believe we're related after all that."

"Shit. Listen to this."

Mace had opened the magazine to the article, featuring yet another photo of the youngest Weasley, showing her assets rather provocatively for the camera, blowing kisses and such. Just looking at her, Mace now felt like he needed a shower and a few strong cleaning charms.

"And I quote, 'I'm having Harry's baby', unquote."

"Like hell she is!" Jason hissed, snatching the magazine to read for himself.

"_He was a right gentleman last summer," says Ginerva, as she talks about their brief tryst at a Muggle motel outside of London, "I always knew Harry [Potter] was meant for me, you know. When he saved me in the Chamber of Secrets, he did it because he loved me! Now I'm having his baby!" Asked about when she was expecting the child, she answered, "The medi-witch says sometime at the end of April or the beginning of May. Harry and I still have to set up a wedding date, but I hope—"_

SMASH. Every window in the room blew out spectacularly, a few of the shards being blown back in by the wind, forcing people to duck. The light fixture overhead sparked dangerously, as it too disintegrated, along with several lamps. The air felt alive with energy that crackled and sizzled ominously, and it all centred around a very angry Jason Black, nee Harry Potter. Mace received several painful shocks from his mate, but remained rooted to the seat, trying to get him calmed down. It was understandable, but this was dangerous.

"Jason... c'mon. You're gonna hurt someone." Jason turned to face his mate, his eyes blazing with emerald fury. "Calm down? Calm DOWN! THAT FUCKING LITTLE HARLOT. Calm down all right..." The temperature of the room plummeted, and not just factoring in the absence of glass in the windows.

"Jason..."

SMASH. The coffee table was rendered a pile of kindling. "I'll murder her in her sleep..." SMASH. The end table in the corner, with its broken lamp, was also rendered a pile of rubble.

"_Stupefy_." Jason slumped, the victim of Hermione's stunner. The hostile energy instantly dissipated. "I'll apologize to him later."

"No, it's all right. But... what the fuck was that?" Mace was shaking, disturbed by the raw display of magical power.

"Accidental magic... at least at the start. Last bit... not so much," said Hermione.

"But we can't blame him really," said George, "Our little sis has crossed the line by a mile."

Mace was confused. "But how? He was with me here."

"Ginny loved to meddle with potions, so it's likely that's how she did it," Ron guessed, "She could've collected hair anytime, right?"

"Someone mind getting Sandra here? Snape's note said we should get in touch with her sooner rather than later." Mace tossed the magazine on the coffee table and scowled. "He might actually try and kill her."

"We'll all make sure he doesn't. Just remind him, there are some things worse than death, right?" said Hermione. She then knelt in front of the floo.

"Kreacher." Mace called out. The elf popped in almost immediately, and was startled at the state of the room. "Master Jason is not well?"

"No. Calming draughts, a bunch of them."

"Right away, Master James." Kreacher popped away.

Viktor, meanwhile, at last found his tongue. "That vos... terrible magic."

"Not telling me anything new," Mace snorted, "Fuck, he shocked me about three times. Make yourselves useful, guys... get the room fixed."

"He's right." Ron pulled out his wand, and started repairing the glass in the windows.

Kreacher reappeared, depositing a load of potions on the coffee table, and bringing a pair of them to Mace.

"Thanks. Don't worry about fixing shit, we got this."

"Very well." Kreacher bowed low, and popped away. The fireplace roared to life almost immediately after, and Sandra stepped out of it. "Dear God, what's happened?"

"Have a look." Mace pointed a finger at the offensive magazine now resting on a corner of the coffee table, as other hands were reaching for calming draughts. Sandra pursed her lips, but picked up the magazine. "Page forty-seven."

"The Weasley daughter, is it not?" Sandra clarified, glancing again at the front cover.

"In name only," said Fred, with a scowl.

"And what has..." Sandra didn't have to ask, finding the passage evidently responsible for the destruction of the living room.

"Hermione had to stun him, he might have injured someone," said Ron.

"Professor Snape sent a letter along with the magazine." Mace handed over the short letter.

"This... this is line theft," said Viktor, gruffly, "In the old vays, it vold mean outcasting, imprisonment, perhaps death even, depending on the family."

"Dad needs to know," said George, going over to the fireplace.

"And we'll need to speak to DMLE. Theft and fraud... _Witch Weekly_ will be issuing a retraction, I think... though they'll be fairly easy to deal with, not exactly their fault," said Sandra, the last bit mostly to herself. "Can you wake him up? Let's see what Jason wants to do."

Mace produced his wand. "_Rennervate_."

Jason's eyes fluttered open, and his face contorted into an angry mask again.

"Here. Drink or we stun you again." Mace pushed a calming potion into his hand, and Jason consumed it at once. He gave it time to take effect, before daring to open his mouth.

"Sandra. Good you're here." He still looked like he was ready to commit murder.

"We'll have her for theft and fraud for starters," said Sandra. Jason gave a nod. "The child..."

"If it's yours, what do you want to do?"

"I dunno. I mean..."

"First thing let's find out how the fuck she pulled it off in the first place," Mace scowled, "The end of August, we were quite busy doing each other in the pond. So unless Jason's able to be in two places at once..."

"Too much information, Mace."

"Irrelevant. But I think we're on the same page here. Whatever it takes to make sure she can't pull anymore surprises."

"Yes, agreed," said Sandra, "I'll speak to DMLE, see what we can come up with."

"You guys have something like a restraining order?" Capa questioned.

"That vold be part of the outcasting ritual. It has varying degrees."

"Outcasting ritual. Old magic," said Sandra, with a nod, "It wouldn't be up to Jason, though."

"This is true. It vold fall to Mr. Veasley as head of the family."

"Dad's still at work," said George, stepping back from the floo, "Mum will bring him through after dinner."

Jason blew out a breath, and gave a chilly smile. "Well. That tears it. I'm done. I'm truly done. Ginerva Molly Weasley has just handed the British Wizarding world over to Tom Riddle, with this latest little stunt. Hope it was worth it."

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

_January 10, 2001_

_Simcoe Crossing, Toronto ON_

Ginny was absolutely glowing both inside and out, as she stepped out of the fireplace at the Blazing Goblet, and took a moment to spell the ashes off her robes. The owl had arrived the previous afternoon, with Harry—or Jason, as he was calling himself these days, warmly inviting her to Toronto to have lunch and a chat, wishing to discuss their future and that of the child. There had been no mention of wedding plans or the like, but that was fine. There would be ample opportunity for that, after all, she had thought to herself.

The pub itself somewhat resembled that of the Leaky Cauldron back in London, although substantially cleaner. There were a few patrons around, but only a few of them looked up at her entrance. It was rather strange, seeing how most were dressed... if not for the witch idly stirring her soup with her wand, Ginny might mistake the place for a Muggle pub. Not a robe to be seen! She suddenly felt overdressed and out of place.

That feeling fled rather quickly, as she set eyes on the reason for her visit. Harry... _her_ Harry, sat in a corner booth, idly sipping on a Muggle beer. He looked a bit different than how she remembered him over four years ago. His hair was longer, not so wild, but rather flat and stringy, if a bit fuzzy. He looked up as she approached, and there were those same emerald green eyes... same old Harry.

"Ginny..." said Harry, standing. His voice was a little deeper than she remembered, and he'd lost his accent completely. He was dressed in a pair of Muggle cargo pants, and... was that one of mum's jumpers? A Muggle jacket was hung on a coat hook beside the booth.

"Harry! You... you look well." They embraced, and although Harry put his worth into it, to Ginny, it still felt restrained. They broke apart, and he took her hand briefly. "Sit down and we'll order some lunch." He gestured to the opposite bench. A server was already hovering close by, and as they sat down, a pair of menus was placed in front of them.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, but take your time," she said, before walking off to see to another table.

"Order what you like, my treat."

Ginny only smiled. That was the Harry she remembered. Generous, kind, and caring. In no time she would be a princess, swimming in the Potter and Black money. No more working in that god-awful apothecary, getting only a few galleons for the long hours. She would have nice things, a nice house, and a famous husband. She focused on the task at hand, namely picking something for lunch.

"The fish and chips is quite nice here," Harry suggested, "The fourth panel."

"Oh. Well... Actually... how is their chicken Alfredo?"

"Um, I haven't had it. But most of the stuff here's good. The chicken Caesar, that's what I'm having."

"You two ready to order?" The server had returned, and she collected Harry's empty beer bottle.

"I think so. The chicken Alfredo for my friend, and I'll take the chicken Caesar. Could I also get another _Canadian_?"

"And would your lady friend like something to drink?"

"A butterbeer, thank you," Ginny decided.

"All right. About fifteen minutes, your order should be ready. I'll be back in a 'sec with your drinks."

"Great." The server was off again, this time toward the back of the pub to submit the order to the cooking staff. Fifteen minutes? Ginny thought to herself, 'They must have house elves then.'

"You've been to see a healer?"

"What—oh, yes, of course!" Ginny was startled by the question, but... of course he'd want to know. "I've been every few weeks since I learned I was pregnant."

"Good. And you're actually well? Eating well, shit like that?"

Ginny frowned at the vulgar language, but nodded. "I want the baby to be healthy, Harry. Of course I'm looking after myself. But... how do you feel about all of this? I was so worried you would just..."

"Abandon the baby?" Harry finished. "No. I think that would sully my mother's memory—and my father's, come to think of it... a Potter abandoning something he created. So really. You need to take care of yourself."

"Of course I will!" Ginny was put out he would even suggest she would neglect herself.

"I was a bit shocked to see that article though, Gin. Wish you'd just sent me a letter, rather than advertize our business to the world. I mean, you know I don't like the publicity."

"But... Harry, I was so happy to find out, and... I wanted to be sure before I told anyone else... and what better way than to tell the world? I know you don't like publicity, but you're famous, Harry. I wanted the world to know you were mine and no one else's."

"Ah. I see." Ginny missed the slip of the mask, as Harry smiled again. "I guess I can forgive you then. When is the baby due?"

"Late April or early May. Plenty of time for us to plan a wedding. The beginning of spring would—"

"Ginny. We've got lots of time. I don't want to get into that sort of discussion today, okay?"

"All right, Harry," said Ginny, deflated. She brightened, and asked, "What about Mr... um... the wizard you're... seeing?"

"Again. We'll talk about it, just not today." Again, Ginny missed the slight slip in the mask, but Harry schooled his features. "Lots of time."

The conversation drifted back to safer topics, and lunch finally arrived. Harry was right: the chicken Alfredo was delicious, as was the Caesar. Harry offered a bit of it, saying there was more than enough for him. It was almost like old times again. She smiled inwardly to herself. Sure, Harry didn't want to talk about a wedding that day, but it would come. His sense of duty would ensure it. Amazing what a few potions could do...

"Right." Harry removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "I think we're just about finished."

"Harry?" He looked up, and something looked a little strange. His eyes were losing their colour. In place of emerald green, were steel-grey. And hair... it was shortening rapidly, changing... changing from the almost-black, to a light brown shade, short-cropped...

"No. NO!" Ginny shrieked. In place of Harry Potter, sat James Mace. He had a nasty smile on his face.

"Ginerva Molly Weasley. You, my dear, are in DEEP shit," he purred.

"Hello, Ginny." She wheeled, to find Harry standing beside the booth. "Did Mace put on a good show for you?"

"But... but..." A stone had fallen into the bottom of her stomach, as the terrible realization hit home.

"But what?" Mace asked, as Harry slammed a magazine down on the table, making her jump, "Funny what a little potion can do." A server had stepped up, and swiftly collected the empty plates.

"We'll settle in a moment," said Harry.

"Let us handle that, Jason," said another patron, standing. A few others stood as well, including one who... Another stone fell into the bottom of her stomach. Harry's solicitor. Ginny now felt like she'd been put on someone's dinner menu.

"Jason. Let's finish this elsewhere. We've got a nice holding cell waiting for her." Ginny whirled around to find a crimson-robed Auror by the back door. Quickly weighing her options, she ran with the best option in her opinion, and passed out.

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

They arrived via port key to the Ministry of Magic, and then took the elevator down to the DMLE offices, and more specifically, the holding cells and the interview rooms. Only once there did they revive the girl. She let out a gasp, realizing her surroundings had drastically changed. Far worse, both her parents were there, and both of them looked beyond angry.

"Y'know. I thought on a few occasions you would've guessed it wasn't really Jason you were talking to," said Mace, with a nasty smirk. "When Jason told me you weren't all that bright, I didn't completely believe him. Guess I know when to admit I'm wrong."

"I'm not dumb, you useless... m-mudblood!" Ginny hissed.

"Oh. Resorting to racist chatter now, are we? I'll add the charge of uttering a racist slur to your charges, Miss Weasley." The crimson-robed Auror was also present.

Mace only smiled again, and it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not Muggleborn. I'm probably something worse where you come from. But whatever. I know that whatever you did is beyond illegal."

"Exactly," Jason picked up. "What we want to know, is how you did it. I saw you last month at Dumbledore's trial, and I was wondering then, who was the poor bastard you'd suckered into doing the deed. So tell us. How did you come to carry my bloodline?"

Ginny was shaking, her lip quivering, as she really didn't wish to. That useless Muggleborn, clinging to him... he tricked me! She stormed in her head.

"Answer the question, Ginerva Molly Weasley," Mr. Weasley commanded. And now Ginny had no choice, bound by family magic.

"It was several potions," she answered, collapsing into a seat. Her entire demeanour collapsed, and tears leaked out of her eyes. Jason knew it was crushing her emotionally, but at this point he really didn't care.

"Details, Ginny. All of it!" Mrs. Weasley was furious. "I thought we taught you better than this!"

"I... took a fertility potion. Then I invited Seamus over for lunch, and laced his drink with Amortentia, and Polyjuice potion. I put a Confundus charm on him so he asked no questions, and we... we had sex. He spent the night and... he never knew."

"Poor Seamus. I'll be sure to tell him the news—I'm sure he'll appreciate being used in such a manner," said Jason, sarcastically. He thought for a moment, then said, "Auror Morgan... maybe we need to question her under Veritaserum. There's a few things I'd like to know."

"Mr. Weasley?"

"I consent."

The interview was certainly an eye-opener, to say the least. While under Veritaserum, Jason confirmed that it was in fact Ginny who turned several people against him during his trial four years prior, instead of Dumbledore. Equally, the full extent of her plans was unravelled, the main purpose being to gain access to Jason's vaults. Further, she had already prepared several lethal potions, all of them intended for Mace and Capa, since they were seen to be in the way.

"All right, I think we're done here," said Auror Morgan, glancing at a second Auror by the door. "Ginerva Weasley. You're under arrest, charges of line theft, fraud, possession of a class B controlled substance, possession of a class A non-tradable substance, sexual assault by proxy, and two counts of conspiracy to commit murder."

"But..." The young witch looked destroyed, about ready to collapse in tears.

"But what, Ginerva?" Jason hissed, "You want leniency? Forgiveness? You betrayed me! Four years ago you betrayed me in spectacular fashion! Turned friends against me! Embellished and distorted the truth! And now you want forgiveness? No. The day that will happen, is the day HELL will freeze over."

"And we're not exactly done," said Mr. Weasley, gravely. "Ginerva Molly Weasley. I cast you out, betrayer, bringer of dishonour to mine and ours. I cast you out, in damnatio memoraie(1). You are dead to us, Ginerva Molly." As the Weasley patriarch spoke those words, a black tendril of magic erupted from their youngest child, to connect with him.

"Dad... please..." Ginny whimpered, but her father only glared at her coldly. "You violated the trust of a boy who saved your very life. You then tried to steal from him and take from him someone who means far more than you ever will. You have demonstrated a callous disregard for those around you... going against everything your mother and I have taught you. I can not and will not forgive you. In damnatio memoraie."

Mrs. Weasley also raised her wand, although her eyes welled with tears. It certainly hurt to have to do it, but she knew it was morally right. Her daughter had done something truly unforgivable. "In damnatio memoraie," she intoned.

"Mum... please. Please don't..." Ginny whimpered again.

"S-so mote it be," Mr. Weasley spoke. The black tendril between Ginny and her father seemed to fray and snap, and she collapsed in a heap, unconscious.

"We'll still need to proceed with a trial, but she won't see the outside of a jail cell, given the amount of evidence here."

"And the baby she, um, conjured or whatever the fuck she did?" said Mace, nastily.

"Oh, it's a real, living baby, Mr. Mace. We'll see she takes care of herself. More importantly, since it was Mr. Black whose blood and likeness was used to create it, it's his call on what to do with it once it's born," answered the other Auror.

"I need some time... I mean, WE need some time to think about it," answered Jason.

"If worse comes to worse, we would happily take care of it. Our spawn caused this problem, after all," said Mrs. Weasley, casting a weary glance at her still unconscious former daughter.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. But we'll talk about it before we make any sort of formal decision."

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

_January 15, 2001_

_Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK_

The hall was relatively deserted, save for a lone figure seated at the far end of the enormous table, and an enormous snake who lay coiled up in front of the crackling fire, warming herself with the heat which radiated from it. The lone figure was pulled from his thoughts, as a barn owl swooped in, to drop a letter on the table in front of him.

The handwriting was somewhat familiar, and, as he sorted back through his memories, he quickly realized who it was.

"_Look Nagini, our young nemesis has owled us a letter,_" Voldemort hissed to his familiar. The snake looked up from where she was laying, only partially paying attention, as her master slit the envelope open with a nail, and pulled out the letter from inside.

_Dear Tom,_

_I ask you to please read this through before you toss it into the fireplace, because I'm not begging for mercy or any of the sort. Actually, I quit. I resign. I'm packing it in. Do whatever you feel is right with the people of magical Britain, for they are not worth saving. Perhaps your rule is exactly what they need at this point, seeing as they want a martyr rather than a leader. Perhaps you could show them the error of their ways. Know this. I won't lift a finger to stop you._

_What, might you ask, has brought me to this decision? You and I have had a similar upbringing. I'm sure you have followed the trial of the _(meddling old coot was scratched out here)_ former headmaster. You and I both suffered because of his meddling and scheming. I told him straight up during that process... I trusted you more than I trusted him, at least you've been rather straight forward as to your intentions._

_The headmaster made you as much as he made me. I'm not going to cry a 'woe is me story', that's not the purpose of this missive. But I will tell you, I can relate, and I'll leave it at that. Other than, he won't be able to do it to another human being, considering he doesn't have a scrap of magic left in him. It's what happens when one violates a magically binding contract, right?_

_The bottom line, is I'm dealing myself out of the war. I enclose something which belongs to you as a token of good will. I know what it is, and have a good idea how to destroy it, but I do not, seeing as I no longer see you as an enemy. We simply have different opinions on matters, and I will leave it at that._

_I should also tell you, keep an eye on the Daily Prophet the next few days, just in case you're unsure of my sincerity here._

_With respect,_

_(Jason had signed his name here)_

_Jason J. Black, nee Harry James Potter_

As the Dark Lord finished reading, a golden locket fell out of the bottom of it: one of his special items. The boy knew his secret? How? But... he had to reread the letter again. By returning the Horcrux to him, the boy was clearly being honest and genuine. The boy had gone over to Canada, according to the paper, carving out a new life for himself away from England... away from _him_.

What of his snotty friends though? What would all of them think? Surely, he would come to their rescue the moment they were threatened... wasn't that the way he worked? At least it did with Black. Perhaps, a return missive might be in order. If Potter—or Black as he was calling himself now truly meant what he said, things would be much easier for him.

He summoned parchment and writing tools, and began to compose a response. To think, two enemies sending cordial missives between them. Who would have thought? Then again, one didn't expect the great Albus Dumbledore to be felled by a nineteen year old wizard, either—without raising a wand to him! No, some part of Tom Riddle had gained a peg of respect for his nemesis. Now if only he could convince him to join the right side of the fight...

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: Line theft. I know, it's been done a thousand times over... but c'mon, it's right useful in this instance. a) Harry/Jason and Mace get an heir, and b) they get rid of one more individual who has betrayed Harry/Jason in a spectacular manner, now twice over. Additionally, gotta love Polyjuice potion. It's got so many uses, and seriously, it was used four times in canon, all of which having serious results/effects. Only fitting they use it against her here._

_This story has one more chapter left, officially, before I do an epilogue._

_(1) In damnatio memoraie - "Condemnation of memory"_


	20. A Bit of Closure

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted July 26, 2012._

* * *

**20. A BIT OF CLOSURE**

* * *

The howlers started not even a day later. Perhaps they did have a reason to be angry, but once again, the people of Wizarding Britain were directing their anger to the wrong place. At least that's what Jason thought, as he directed another stack of the offensive mail into the fireplace with his wand. Bill was already manipulating the wards to include a redirect to anything that might be harmful—something they all realized should have been done sometime ago.

Among the howlers, naturally, there came other letters, many of them from friends. All were gravely concerned about the decision he'd made. At this point, Jason had not come to a final decision on who exactly he would invite to join him in Canada, so no replies were sent back. Jason wanted to be sure those he invited over actually deserved to be rescued. Who had stood up and supported him, even in the darkest of times? Those were the allies he needed—not people more interested in riding the coat-tails of his fame. The Ginny's of the world could go rot in Hell, for all he cared.

On January 18, Jason received a reply from Tom.

_Harry—Or Jason, so you are being called these days,_

_Let me open by congratulating you on accomplishing something that I myself have failed to do on numerous occasions. The Muggle-loving fool must have truly been shocked, to be dispatched by the very golden boy he so cherished. You are truly my equal, Jason. It is a pity you do not wish to join me. You do remember what I told you at the end of your first year? You and I could do great things together._

_However, your declaration in the Daily Prophet a few days ago have more than proven your opinion on matters, and while we may not agree on a good many things, your decision not to interfere with my plans for Wizarding Britain has caused me to reconsider my position with regard to you and yours._

_Naturally, I do have two questions, the first of which, and perhaps the most important being, what of those who openly support you. Will you come running to their defence the second they come under fire? Or will you truly turn your back on them?_

_Secondly, what happens when I move beyond Britain's borders, such as I have already done in Bulgaria? Will you still refuse to raise your wand against me? Or will you break your word?_

_Perhaps, if you are willing, we might enter into an unbreakable vow, a permanent and binding agreement. There would be a set of terms, set out to protect both our interests. I suggest a neutral location, offering the same faith which you have shown me in returning my locket._

_Tom M. Riddle_

Jason simply stared at the single page of parchment, stunned. He'd never expected any sort of response from the Dark Lord, but this? This was beyond anything he could imagine.

"Is this for real?"

Bill had to read the letter several times, he was so shocked.

"A question I'm still asking myself," said Jason, shaking his head. "Who knew the man could be reasonable?"

"Well, you did strip Dumbledore of his magic, mate," said Ron. They were gathered at the dining room table, as Jason shared the letter.

"You still haven't finished your list yet. I'd wait until then, if I were you."

"I know, Hermione. But what do I say to him in the meantime? I mean, I'm nearly there as far as a list is concerned, but I don't want to make any sort of agreement and regret it later. He's asking for an unbreakable vow."

"What's an unbreakable vow?" Mace asked.

"If a person breaks the agreement, they die. It's that simple," answered Bill.

"Someone has to perform the binding," said Hermione, "It takes three people."

"I need to talk to Sandra, get her input on this before I agree to it. I guess the worst thing I'm concerned about, is him coming over here."

"Yeah, no doubts there," Ron agreed.

* * *

_January 31, 2000  
Gringotts, Diagon Alley_

Jason was beyond nervous, as he and Sandra waited inside the conference room they had secured for the meeting. It was sparse, save for the single goblin who waited at the door. It was just before 10 am, the time of the scheduled meeting.

There had been debate as to who was to join Jason at the meeting, but it was decided this was best done with the minimum of people present, in the event things turned ugly. Jason agreed, insisting that Mace and everyone else stayed behind at the house, protected by its formidable wards. Mace wasn't happy with the decision, but equally understood. It didn't help his own concern, however, knowing what Jason was about to face.

At precisely 10 am, the doors opened, and Jason held his breath. He already knew what Voldemort looked like, having faced him twice already, but it was still terrifying. The numerous rituals he'd gone through, never mind the rebirthing ritual likely contributed to the wizard's appearance.

The man who stepped into the room, however, was nothing like the monster Jason remembered. If anything, he looked like—Tom Riddle. He brought one other individual with him: Severus Snape.

"Professor. Tom," Jason greeted evenly.

"Black," Snape answered, with an incline of the head.

"Harry. Or Jason, should I say," said Tom, as they approached the conference table.

"I... This is my solicitor, Sandra Fraser," said Jason.

"Indeed. I would have thought you would have brought one of your friends along," said Tom.

"No. Forgive me if I don't exactly trust you. Olive branches were offered on both sides, but there is no peace treaty in place, am I right?"

"That is a fair assessment, I agree. Then perhaps, we should get down to business."

"My requirements are quite simple," said Jason, "I now call Canada my home. It's off limits, along with any witch or wizard who lives within its borders."

"Ah. Now I see why you have not mentioned anything about those who you may consider a friend."

"I have already been in contact with those individuals, and I am considering others."

"They are being invited to move themselves and their families to Canada," Sandra picked up, "Better than you and your forces trying to convert them to your way of thinking, or killing them outright."

"It might be a fair assessment. If Canada wishes to continue to pollute their blood with filth, then so be it. And in return, you, Jason Black, shall not interfere in any way, shape, or form, with regard to how I decide to rule Britain and the rest of the Wizarding world. One final point. There is a prophecy about you and I that I am sure you are by now aware."

"I'm aware of it, and I choose to ignore it. Beside the point, who says it wasn't already fulfilled when you attacked me when I was a baby?"

"If I might ask, what does the prophecy say in its entirety?"

Jason only gave a nod, then recited the prophecy, word for word. Tom leaned back in his chair, and thought about each point of it. Then he leaned forward again.

"It seems that, perhaps you may be right," Tom agreed.

"Dumbledore, of course, would have refuted that from here until doom's day, but that's irrelevant. What I think, it's been fulfilled already, so the both of us can just get on with our lives and be done with it."

"It seems we have an agreement, gentlemen."

"I agree to the terms," said Jason.

"And I agree to the terms," said Tom, "Severus, if you will take out your wand."

Snape drew his wand.

"You will join hands."

Jason and Tom joined hands as directed. Snape placed the tip of his wand on their joined hands.

Snape began.

"Do you, Jason Black, swear to not interfere in the Dark Lord's plans as they pertain to the Wizarding world, with the exception of Canada, from this point forward?"

"I do," answered Jason.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound itself around their hands like a red-hot wire.

"Do you, Tom Riddle, swear that you will not attempt to interfere with the Canadian Wizarding world and all of those within it, including Jason Black, nee Harry Potter?"

"I do," answered Tom, evenly.

A second tongue of brilliant flame now wound its way around the hands, joining the first. They remained that way for several seconds, after which, the bands dissipated. Jason gave Tom's hand a shake (startling him), and they separated.

"If I might ask something?"

"What's on your mind?" asked Jason.

"What was the final straw? What turned you against the world you so wished to defend against me?"

"Ginny Weasley. When you liberate Azkaban of your loyal followers, be sure to say hello to her for me. She'll be moved there sometime in May, I believe. Life term and all that."

"And what, exactly, did the blood traitor do that garnered your wrath?"

"Line theft."

Tom blinked.

"And the child she is carrying?"

"Mace and I plan on raising it once it's delivered. Naturally, he or she is protected under the agreement we just made."

"Wouldn't dream of interfering."

Harry gave a genuine smile for the first time.

"I wish Dumbledore could see us, y'know. He'd likely have a heart attack, seeing us in the same room, having a civil conversation."

That actually got a laugh out of Voldemort.

"It's ironic that you should say that. When I received your missive a few weeks ago, the exact same thought crossed my mind."

"If that is everything, perhaps we should get going," said Sandra, glancing at her watch.

"Yes, indeed. I have much to discuss with-"

"Your inner circle, I know," Jason finished, "Say hello to Nagini for me."

"I will do that."

"If I might have a word with Mr. Black before we return."

"Very well, Severus, return to the manor when you are finished, I'm sure you know the way. Good bye, Jason Black." With that, the Dark Lord rose, and swept out of the room.

Snape simply stared at Jason a moment.

"Why on this good earth have you done something so utterly foolish?" He finally snapped.

"To be rid of a problem, sir," Jason simply answered, "That offer is open to you by the way. Come join me in Canada. He would be bound by his agreement, even concerning you."

"And Wizarding Britain will burn, because of what you have done here today. What part of that are you not understanding?"

"I understand perfectly what I've done, Professor. I'm affording them exactly what they have afforded me. They wanted a saviour, not a leader. Now they have neither. Well... they have a leader, somewhat, he just won't lead them in all that great a direction.

"See, I've done a bit of thinking since I sent the first letter to Tom. England's been a birthing ground for two of the darkest wizards to walk the earth. It's all because of archaic laws and backwards thinking. As long as the purebloods run the show, nothing will change. If that's what they want, then have at it. The entire culture will die out in a few generations.

"The Canadian Wizarding world, meanwhile, will continue to offer a much more progressive world, a place not bound by backwards, archaic laws and a backwards society. That's the one thing I've learned in the months I've lived there. That's what I'm offering people who want a better life."

"It's what Canada has always stood for, Professor," said Sandra, "Even in the Muggle world, they are seen as a strong nation, a place built on principle, welcoming to everyone, no matter their culture or their background. If the British Wizarding public want something better, they need to stand up for themselves and force the change. It won't happen on its own."

"And like I said, Professor, you're on that list. Should you wish to be rid of the war, you know how to reach me."

Snape gave Jason another angry look, then rose and swept from the room.

"Well. That went over much easier than I expected. Best get home," said Jason.

* * *

That night, neither Jason nor Mace got a whole lot of sleep. It was the first time Jason felt truly free of the burdens originally heaped on him. There was a prophecy. So what? Tom and Jason both agreed that it was a moot point now. Even if it wasn't, they chose to ignore it. It was that simple. They would stay away from each other, as was the agreement.

There was still an uncertain future ahead, but it looked a hell of a lot brighter than it did days, weeks, and months before. Jason was truly free. He was surrounded by friends and people who loved, cared, and supported him, and most of all, the love of his life. Maybe he did leave Wizarding Britain to burn, but in the end, the world he left behind had only brought it on itself. Jason had a clear conscience, and did not regret that decision. Better to tear down the old, so something new could be built in its place and all that.

* * *

_May 1, 2000  
Upper Canada Hospital for Maladies and Injuries_

"Right this way, Mr. Black, Mr. Mace."

The healer indicated they follow her. It was a short walk to an elevator, which deposited them on the fourth floor, and Jason had to work hard to suppress a giggle. Spell damage? Really?

"What?"

Mace could see Jason was smirking.

"Well... just that, they put her up here on the fourth floor—spell damage."

This time, Jason couldn't help it, and a giggle escaped.

"I think more than a few Muggle ladies might agree with that one," said Mace. That got a scowl from the healer escorting them.

They were led into a private room, guarded by two Aurors. Both of them inclined their heads at the pair as they arrived—even after all that had happened, Jason still had the respect of the Aurors. There were a pair of healers attending to the—mother, while a second was handling an incubator. She noticed them enter, and waved them over.

Jason was shocked at what he found.

"Twins? You're kidding."

"We were pretty much certain by the third trimester. Congratulations, Mr. Black, a boy and a girl."

"Guess that means we both get our wish," said Mace, giving Jason's shoulder a squeeze as they gazed in on the pair of newborns, wrapped snugly in the incubator.

"The girl will be named Lily Jean," said Harry.

"And the boy will be Kaneda James," said Mace.

"Very well. If you will both add your signatures to the form, we can finish up here."

"Harry."

Harry jerked his head toward the bed and scowled.

"What?"

"I hope you'll be happy. It's... all I wanted," said Ginny.

"No!" Jason hissed, "You wanted to destroy everything I had, drive everyone away. You wanted a trophy husband to play house with. Instead, you have nothing."

He turned back to Mace and the incubator.

"How soon can they be brought home?"

"I should think perhaps in a few days. Congratulations again, the pair of you," said the healer.

"Thank you. They don't stay in the room here, right?"

"Oh no, definitely not. They will be placed in a separate room until they're ready to be released."

Jason took one more look at the twin babies wiggling about in the incubator. They were both adorable. Both of them had fair complexions, much like the mother, but those eyes were unmistakable: emerald green, just like his. The hair at this point, he couldn't tell, but he could almost bet that at least one, if not both would have his hair. They had been produced through a crime, but Jason already felt the connection. They were his blood, a continuation of his bloodline, his future. He turned to Mace and grinned.

"Let's get home and tell everyone."

* * *

The small party rapidly ballooned into an all-night affair, as the numerous people Jason knew all stopped in to congratulate him in person. The twins set off more of their special fireworks, there was a cake, and lots of other food and drink to go around.

And, just when Jason thought it couldn't be outdone, Mace put the tip of his wand to his throat. "_Sonorus_."

"Um, could I get everyone's attention for a sec?"

The gathered crowd fell silent, and Mace cancelled the charm.

"Right. So this has been a crazy ride for me and all. I've done a lot of crazy shit... being blasted into space probably still being the craziest. But this past few months has constantly pushed close to that in every way possible.

"Thing is, none of it would have ever been possible without Jason. I wouldn't be alive without his help back in June—nearly a year ago. Jason... I love you with all my heart, and I guess, what I'm wondering..."

Mace dropped to one knee, and pulled out a small box, then held it in front of him, and cracked it open, revealing a simple silver band.

"I guess what I'm asking... Jason Black. Will you bond with me?"

Jason simply stared a moment, completely floored by what Mace had just done. In fact, Mace began to worry that perhaps he'd made a mistake.

"Jason?"

"Oh Merlin... YES! With... with all my heart, yes!" Jason answered excitedly, his brain finally catching up. He offered a trembling hand, and allowed Mace to slip the silver band onto his ring finger.

With that heartfelt reply, the gathered crowd broke into cheers and applause. The twins set off more fireworks, while Hermione was gushing like a schoolgirl again. Mrs. Weasley was reduced to a bundle of nerves again, bearing witness to her honorary eighth child going through another rite of passage in his life. Jason was happy, they were all safe, and in her books, that was what truly mattered.

Jason put his wand to his throat. "_Sonorus_."

"Well. Thanks, everyone for coming, but... I think my partner and I want to call it a night. You're all welcome to carry on without us, just don't blow up the house or the property."

Jason cancelled the charm, and the pair went into the house.

"Merlin, you shocked me tonight," Jason grinned, as they climbed the stairs.

"I've been working on... how to do it... since Christmas," Mace confessed, "Now, tonight... it was perfect."

"How long have you had the ring?"

"Since January. When we found out about Ginny, right? Gotta make an honest man out of you and all that shit."

"Oh. I get it," Jason grinned, "So you thinking about when?"

"September's nice. The first week of September. Might be difficult having Ron and Hermione and Capa here to celebrate our anniversary, but..."

"We would make it work anyway. I like that. Y'know that Mrs. Weasley is gonna go overboard about this, right?"

"Kind of figured that much, she sees you as an eighth son and all, right?"

"Something like that. I can't wait to show them their early Christmas gift."

"You mean the house across the road."

"Yep. Sandra's already got a contractor lined up to start work next month," said Jason, as he undressed. Mace, of course, was doing the same.

They climbed into bed, and Jason quickly found himself in his partner's arms, as had become the tradition. Four years of misery had come to a close that previous June, and now... now, all was right with the world.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So there you have it. This is the official end, so gonna put the 'COMPLETE' stamp on it. There may be an epilogue someday, or not. A thank you to everyone who has put this in their favourite lists, and followed the story. That said, a new project is on the way very soon, see my profile for further details._


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